


We Found Each Other (Over There)

by kristen999



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26777959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/pseuds/kristen999
Summary: A combat medic and a G.I. meet during one of the world’s greatest battles. A WWII European Theater based AU.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 192
Kudos: 208





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author thanks:  
> I wanted to thank one of my betas, Stellarmeadow for waving a carrot about wanting to read a WWII fic in this fandom. My muse took the suggestion and ran with it! Thank you for your suggestions and for looking over my drafts. Also, big thanks to tari-aldarion for her cheerleading.
> 
> A huge thank you to Gaelicspirit for all of her suggestions and crit and just being a rock-star beta on this! You are my touchstone.
> 
> Thank you for the beautiful gif-set by @spenserclay https://thekristen999.tumblr.com/post/638318383083962368/we-found-each-other-over-there-by-thekristen999
> 
> Author Notes:  
> I did a lot of research for this; however, I am not a historian, so there will probably be some inaccuracies and errors for creative license reasons.
> 
> This story starts during D-day so it can get pretty intense. This fic is complete and will be posted every other day or so.
> 
> Warnings: War violence. Shell shock.

Thank you to nihilvanum (indiguus) for my lovely header!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183517509@N06/50408952766/in/dateposted-public/)

* * *

**Omaha Beach**  
_0100 June 6, 1944_

At midnight 7,000 ships left Britain under the cover of darkness: Destination Normandy. Specialist “Buck” Buckley had no idea how many troops were aboard. Tens of thousands. More people in one place than he could ever imagine. His aunt had been to France once; she’d sent him postcards, causing his imagination to run wild. This wasn’t exactly how he imagined visiting.

He’d been part of Company G of the 16th Infantry for almost two years, fighting and bleeding with the same platoons since North Africa. They’d been training for this date for six months and now it was finally here. Yesterday morning, he and his bunkmates wrote goodbye letters to their parents just in case none of them made it back.

Nutz handed him a smoke. Buck took it with gratitude, needing to do something with his hands. The whole company had been waiting on deck with their rucksacks and weapons for over an hour already. He could feel the collective adrenaline in the air, pouring out of everyone’s skin, mixing with fear and anticipation.

They all wanted to get the invasion over with. Except they couldn’t, not yet.

So, they waited.

* * *

They dropped anchor less than a mile off Pas-de-Calais. The bombers had already taken off from aircraft carriers to pound the German defenses into oblivion, softening the beachhead so they could land ashore without getting their heads blown-off. Or so they hoped.

Buck checked his watch. It was 0120. If he were home, he’d be sound asleep.

It was hard to hear anything over the blood rushing inside his ears. Captain Bobby Nash stood on top of a landing craft and gave one last pep talk. 

All the hair along Buck’s arms rose and he swallowed against overwhelming panic. Nutz stood beside him and said a prayer. 

Thoughts swirled like crazy inside his head. Buck had never been to a Yankee’s game, or gone to the World’s Fair, or known what it felt like to fall in love.

* * *

It was almost dawn. Buck had nowhere to pace, nowhere to run. The entire company was still on deck waiting for orders to move out. 

A hand clapped him on the back and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Only a little while longer,” Captain Nash said. “We’ve got to wait until the paratroopers land behind German lines to secure all the bridges. Or we’re going to have nowhere to go.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

Nash nodded, the same nod he used to calm Buck down when he was about to do something stupid. Nutz rolled his eyes, ‘Captain’s pet’ he mouthed.

Buck slapped him on the arm. “Asshole.”

* * *

Buck covered his ears as Allied battleships fired at the Nazi defenses with their heavy guns. How was he supposed to hear any orders if he went deaf?

There were sea skirmishes going on now; the German boats started attacking the fleet. 

When the coxswain announced they were about to launch, Buck looked at the sun starting to rise, hoping he would see another one after today.

* * *

Buck hated boats. Even after training for months for this mission, he despised the chop, the awful sensation it caused in his gut. Just give him a rifle and dry land. Hell, he’d take French Morocco with its desert heat and choking dust to this crap. 

It’d been two years since he’d been stateside. Buck wondered if Mom and Dad would even recognize him. He didn’t feel like the same person. Pennsylvania felt like a lifetime ago. He suddenly got a desire for steak and eggs with hot sauce.

The landing craft lurched. He gripped the side for dear life as the boat tossed about the waves. Focus. 

Swallowing hard, he risked a look at the rest of the 16th, guys packed together like sardines, all waiting to land. Buck risked a glance over the edge of the boat and searched for the Cap in Boat No. 6, but it was out of sight.

Jesus there were so many Landing Craft Assault boats. All of Company G was loaded in seven of them. Hopefully, the Germans had been bombed to hell and back and there wouldn’t be much resistance. 

Water sprayed his face. The weight of the flak jacket and pack making him sweat despite the cold of the sea. 

They rode the unforgiving tide for what seemed like forever, but his platoon’s boat was still five thousand yards from the beach. Come on, come on. 

Buck heard a whistling sound —it was incoming artillery shells. 

“Get down!” 

But there wasn’t a way to get any lower. They started taking heavy fire, rocking the boat from side to side. 

Boat No. 4 was struck at one thousand yards out. Buck watched in horror as the craft cracked in half and men drowned before his eyes. 

The other six boats rode unscathed as they approached the shore. Six hundred yards, five hundred yards, four hundred yards….

A shell struck Boat No. 3, the men inside trapped by metal and panic. It was what the Germans had been waiting for, to take them out as they came ashore with machine-gun fire. 

Then it dawned him; they were easy targets out here. He scanned the water. It was too far to swim with all their gear weighing them down. All they could do was wait their turn to land, forced to watch their possible fates.

Another boat landed ahead of them and the platoon started running to shore. They got ripped apart before they made it five yards. Buck noticed how more men drowned from the unforgiving waves and weight of their boots than from enemy fire. _Jesus._

He started to climb over the side; he had to do something to help, but a hand gripped his shoulder and Buck turned around and stared at Lieutenant Roberts.

“You got one job! Take out the damn guns. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Buck knew his job, could feel it in the marrow of his bones. It didn’t mean he could just stand by and watch people die. But if he wanted to save more, to end this damn forsaken war, he’d do his duty.

It didn’t stop him from wanting to throw up. 

Only five boats remained.

“Shit!” Roberts yelled. “We’re not coming in at the right spot.” He stared through his binoculars. “Where the hell are we?”

“Sir?” Buck asked.

“There’s no damn cover.”

Before Buck could scan the shoreline for holes from the bombings, their boat hit a sandbar. Damn it. Buck looked over the ramp. They were at least seventy-five yards from the beach. 

"Try to get in further,” Buck yelled at the coxswain.

The seaman shook his head. “I can’t!”

His heart slammed against his chest. They were sitting ducks. “Drop the ramp or we’re going to die here!”

Captain Nash had drilled into them for years not to go off the front of the ramp because the boat might get rocked by a wave and run over you. Buck hoped he’d made it to shore.

“Go off the sides!” he yelled. 

Buck jumped overboard. _Holy shit_.The sea was frigid, the water temp no more than fifty degrees. It went up to Buck’s shoulders. Men sunk all around him. Buck reached over to grab a few, fingers scraping part of jacket, but he couldn’t save a single one.

Mason, Riles, Nutz, Lee. They all leaped. Buck couldn’t locate Captain Nash or the LT.

Bodies floated everywhere. 

The sea started to pull Buck under, his heavy equipment started dragging him down, but he kicked hard with his boots, keeping his face out of the water. But not his head, not his body. Buck couldn’t give the Germans anything to shoot at. 

The tide washed over his head, but kept pushing with his arms, kicking with his feet, riding over the waves. When his boots finally hit the bottom of the ocean Buck kept his face barely above the surface while bullets flew. 

All he could do was put one foot in foot in front of the other, ignore the bombs, the screams, and just push forward. Always forward. The sea went from his chest to his waist, then down to his knees. Everywhere he looked, the water was red. 

The plan was simple. They’d trained for it. Memorized every step. They were supposed to wade ashore in three files from each boat. 

Shivering and beyond exhausted, Buck collapsed onto the beach as gunfire roared around him. He breathed in wet sand and dirt as he fought to control how hard his body was shaking. 

Turning on his side, he looked back at the advancing invasion.

One by one, boats came to ashore in pieces. Men were shot. In the leg, in the arm, some fell over from shock. 

There wasn’t anyone to follow, no order to be heard. Buck couldn’t find a single recognizable face in the chaos. He was on his own.

He risked one last glance behind him. Another boat moved toward the beach. The ramp dropped and men poured out as more machine gun fire ripped through them. 

Above all others, one guy stood out. Buck noticed a red cross painted across his helmet and around his armband.

Reaching the sand, the medic stripped off his pack and helmet. Then he crawled _back_ into the water and pulled wounded men about to be overlapped by the tide and dragged them to shore. One after another. 

For a split second, Buck felt a glimmer of hope, that some of them might make it out of here alive. 

From the cliffs above, the German gunners continued shooting down on them. The air bombing was supposed to provide natural foxholes and cover, instead they were totally exposed.

Buck sought cover from enemy obstacles moored and lines of barbed wire that along the upper half of the beach to prevent amphibious vehicles from coming ashore. “Wire cutters!” he shouted. “Anyone have cutters?”

A kid no older than eighteen and skinny as a beanpole appeared on his side. Jesus. He had baby cheeks. “Got them, sir!”

While hell rained down all around them, Buck cut through the wire, ensuring a large enough gap for others to follow behind him.

“Come on, kid, let’s go.” But the soldier, the kid, didn’t budge. Buck yanked him by the arm. “I said let’s run!” The kid was terrified. “Hey. What’s your name?”

“David…I mean, Private Wilson.”

“My name’s Buck.” He didn’t care about formalities. “Come on, stay on my six. I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

Pvt. Wilson nodded. 

They took the beach inch by inch. Every few feet, Buck cut through more rows, clearing a path, Wilson following. He couldn’t do a damn thing about all the wooden posts, but hopefully someone with some explosives would take them out. 

Bombs, machines guns, everything was deafening. And the beach obstacles were endless. 

Buck’s knees sunk into the wet sand as worked through the next string of wire, his hands shaking, his breathing ragged. 

He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, a soldier rushed toward a set of obstacles, a set of Lieutenant Stripes on his sleeve. It was Roberts. Relief flooded him. Buck opened his mouth to yell at him when the LT lifted his head a little too high and was stuck by a bullet.

Wilson started crying. 

A medic appeared by the lieutenant’s beside. He moved from the LT to a body next to him, then another. The red cross a splash of color among dark hellfire. 

In theory the enemy was not supposed to fire upon medics, it was the rule of war, so dozens of men followed behind him, using him for cover as he continued down the beach.

“Buckley!”

Buck turned his head toward the person calling his name and he almost cried in happiness when he saw Captain Nash.

“Cap!” Buck yelled. Thank God he was alive.

“Keep moving!” Nash yelled.

Toward the cliffs. That was their goal. It was his job to climb up and get to the guns. He patted Wilson’s arm to follow him. 

With his rifle pointed in front of him, Buck headed across the sand. 

He spotted another company pinned down behind large sets of steel rebar. They hadn't made it to the seaway. 

“You have to get up and go! You gotta get up and go!” Nash yelled at them.

But they didn't. They were worn out and completely defeated. There wasn't any time to help them. Buck was forced to run past them.

In the distance, Buck noticed the now familiar medical armband. It probably wasn’t the same guy, the same medic treating the scattered remains of the battalion. But the way he moved Buck swore it had to be him. 

Nash waved at him. “God damn it, Buckley. Move!” 

Buck continued across the beach. There were mines everywhere. The air corps had missed them entirely. There were no shell holes in which to take cover. Absolutely nothing planned for that part of the beach had worked. 

Something hit him in the leg and Buck fell forward, his rifle falling ten feet or so in front of him. It was a damn sniper.

Buck crawled toward his weapon, but his body just wouldn’t move any further. He lay there, dazed. Saw others just trying to get up and regroup. Men from other companies all scattered like limp rag dolls. Weapons fire all around them.

He looked around and saw Wilson on his back. “Get up and run!” Buck yelled.

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can!”

It was then Buck realized that blood was streaming out of Wilson’s chest. 

Buck had never felt so helpless. He wanted to sob, to scream, but most of all he wanted to erase the image of Wilson’s eyes as they stared up at him in fear.

He needed to move. Nash was counting on him, and all his guys, wherever they might be. If Buck didn’t do his job, then this was for all for nothing. He’d promised his mom he’d come home, promised Maddie he wouldn’t end up as patient in her field hospital.

Buck got up and tried hobbling. His leg hurt; it was difficult to move. He managed a few yards before his leg buckled under him and he blacked out....

A moment, seconds, minutes passed before Buck came to, blinking up at the morning sky. He saw movement beside him, felt a hand on his leg, then his torso.

“What?” Buck growled, trying to stand.

“Easy, there. Where else are you hurt?”

Buck stared over the man, eyes darting from his face to the familiar armband. “You?”

The medic leaned over him. “Are you hurt anywhere else, Specialist…?”

“Buckley.” Buck looked to Wilson’s unmoving body. “Don’t mind me, go help him.”

The medic glanced at David and bit his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t help him.”

“Yes, you _can.”_

“No, I can’t. Bullet hit his spine. He’s immobilized.”

Guilt ripped through Buck. 

“I administered him morphine,” the medic mumbled as he finished tending to Buck’s leg. 

He gave him mercy.

Buck swallowed down his horror. Steeled himself. Damn it. 

He looked down at the bandage that had been applied. He didn’t even remember the guy cutting open his trouser. “Are you done?”

The medic nodded. “Try to change that soon.” He started to move away.

“Hey!” Buck grabbed his arm, searching him. “Where’s your rifle?”

“I don’t carry one.”

That’s right. Medics were only issued a sidearm. So stupid. How were they supposed to defend themselves with a pistol against machine guns? “Then you’re coming with me.”

“Excuse me?”

“We have to get up that wall.” The medic glanced over at the cliffs then back down the beach. “I need to triage these guys.”

Buck shook his head. “There’s nowhere to take them. No hospital, no ship. We can only move forward. And we’re going to need all the help that we can get.” Then Buck noticed the man’s rank. “Listen. Corporal….”

“Diaz.”

“Come on. If we want to make any of this count, then we need to help those still alive.”

Diaz hesitated, but Buck tugged on his arm. “Stay beside me.” He knew Diaz technically outranked him, but the guy was a medic, he probably had little experience in the heat of battle. 

Buck didn’t wait for an answer. He felt Diaz beside him, keeping him close as they headed toward the cover of a giant hill.

* * *

Corporal Eddie Diaz knew this mission could turn the tide of the war. Even though he’d served at the field hospitals in Tunisia, none of that would be able to prepare him for the upcoming slaughter ahead. 

Every aspect of the invasion was top secret; most company commanders had no idea what was going to happen except for their tiny sliver of the plan. Eddie’s expectations were simple: triage and save as many lives as possible.

Although medicine at the aid stations just felt like a mass-assembly line for patch-up jobs and providing pain relief. At one point they had more supplies of morphine than plasma. 

This was his first deployment onto the battlefield. Oddly enough, he wasn’t scared; in fact, he hadn’t felt fear since the desert. That place burned all the fear out of him…except when he still heard the screams.

Dread. Apprehension. They were close companions. Eddie worried more about not doing enough for his guys. If he couldn’t get them back onto to their feet how would they ever make the world safe for everyone back home?

He rubbed his hand over his heart, over his jacket and blouse, where the picture of Christopher burned hole through the fabric. But he couldn’t think about him now. 

“Don’t over think things, Diaz. After we get through this, beers will be on me.”

Eddie nodded at Master Sergeant Han. “Thanks, sir.”

“Hey, after Sicily, everything else should be a cakewalk.”

Eddie cringed. He didn’t have the heart to tell Han how often his words came back to bite them all in the ass. 

And of course, it did, because everything that could go wrong with the beach landing had gone wrong. And they hadn’t even made it to shore yet. 

Eddie could hear the boats hitting the waves and all the guys calling out for help. 

He dived into the sea, dragged men weighed down by 90 pounds of ammunition and equipment back to shore. There were so many of them. Everywhere he looked there were men in need of saving. He lugged and pulled and almost drowned a few times as the result. 

After hauling the fourth man to land, his legs gave out on him, his heart beating out of his chest, gasping for air. Eddie wasn’t sure he could move, his legs felt like rubber and his head was spinning from all the sea rescues. But there wasn’t a moment to spare. 

Despite how many times he’s jumped into the sea, Eddie still found the pack and helmet he’d tossed during the chaos. How in the hell had he done that?

The sound of combat was a furious cacophony unlike anything in civilian life. It was worse than shock; it was something physical thumping against his chest, pounding his bones, rumbling through his organs, counter-beating his heart. Eddie’s skull vibrated from every mortar explosion. 

Yet, above the explosions and the rapid gunfire, he could still somehow make out human sound. 

“Medic!”

Pushing up with his arms, Eddie clenched his jaw and got to work. 

As he reached every waving hand, every shout for help, he was confronted with endless broken and bleeding bodies. He slapped on bandages, applied tourniquets, but nothing he did fixed anyone.

Normally, his job was simple. Examine and stabilize for transport. Except there wasn’t an aid station around. In combat, the rule was to evacuate the wounded to the rear of the battlefield. On Omaha, there was no rear—there was only forward. 

It was a nightmare. Part of him wanted to curl up into a ball and bury himself away from all the noise. But he ignored that voice, his boots carrying him over the beach in search of those who needed him.

The dead piled up all around him. He started rationing the morphine. 

An explosion knocked him to the ground, and he threw his hands over his helmet out of instinct. This wasn’t North Africa and it sure as hell wasn’t El Paso. 

_Christopher._ He would stay live for him, for his son. 

Eddie lay flat on his belly, scanning the terrain. Pre-dawn aerial bombardments had landed uselessly far from their targets. Naval gunfire support had ended, and amphibious tanks were sinking before they reached land. 

The only way was forward. 

As Eddie moved, he was confronted by a chorus of _medic!_

And _God_ he tried to render aid. Wrap broken bones, stop gushing bullet holes. He reached a lieutenant who’d caught a bullet in the neck. Eddie held his hand as the life went out of him.

Risking a look ahead, Eddie watched as two more guys went down. Running toward them, Eddie knelt next to a kid who didn’t look old enough to buy Lucky Strikes. As blood gushed out of him, the kid reached his hand toward his buddy, another soldier who laid unconscious a few feet away. 

He should save the ampoule, but Eddie couldn’t bear to witness the kid suffer. He gave him a dose of morphine before moving on to his friend.

Eddie worked quickly on the other guy, his heart sinking in relief at the rather minor wound to the leg. He could treat this one; patch him up so he could continue to fight. The thought did not provide him comfort.

And while he worked on him, the GI woke up and tried to take over.

They argued while the war raged around them. 

One thing was certain. There was no hospital to retreat to, there was only the other side of _that wall._ And until they took out the German line, there would be more bombs and bodies. 

The only way to save more lives, to get home to his son, was to help those who could take out those damn machine guns. This guy had survived thus far and that was enough for him. 

“Stay beside me,” the GI said. 

Keeping low, Eddie followed him toward the wall.

* * *

By the end of the hour, survivors had crawled across the sand to the foot of a bluff which provided a narrow sanctuary of defiladed space that German guns couldn’t reach. They were protected by its cover. For now. 

Eddie followed the GI toward a group of soldiers huddled together. Eddie went toward each one, checking them over for major injuries. Most were too shocked to do much but shiver, incapable of even telling Eddie if they were hurt anywhere. He did what he could, ensured none of them were bleeding out, providing them with the confidence that they’d made it, they were alive. 

Mere human touch seemed enough for some, snapping them back to reality. 

Moving back over to where his new buddy sat, Eddie knelt beside him. “Hey..um…?”

“Buckley.”

Eddie nodded. “Diaz.”

Buckley’s face was smeared with dirt and sand, his cheeks pale, his eyes still sharp, if a little weary. But then they all were.

Eddie wrapped his arms around himself as it finally dawned on him that was just as wet and cold as everyone else. He looked around for any sign of his platoon among the scared faces, finding no one. 

Where was everyone from his company? He released a heavy breath. He tried to push all the negative thoughts out of his head. “Now what?”

“I don’t know. I mean, we were supposed to be supporting the assault, but now….” Buckley shook his head. “I don’t even know who’s in charge.”

It was a rhetorical question, but Buckley’s answer was a cruel reminder that they were leaderless. He looked over at their shelter, his ears ringing from the continued enemy machine gun fire. 

It would be madness to try something on their own given the level of exhaustion all around. Eddie looked at his watch. It was almost 1200. Six hours of non-stop fighting. Twelve hours since they’d all reported on deck. Maybe over twenty since anyone of them had slept. 

He checked in on another waterlogged group that collapsed next to them. Drenched, weary and seasick, more and more guys sought the meek security of the cliff as the world rattled with explosions. 

For a split Eddie froze when all the GIs turned into dead bodies from the beach, bleeding and lifeless. He sucked in a breath and shook his head, the memories from this morning fading into the present.

Most still had their canteens. “Drink your water,” he told them. “Stay hydrated.” It wasn’t much, but it kept his mind occupied. 

The battle to climb up the cliffs and take out the guns ripping apart the beach raged on above.

“We can’t stay here,” Buckley said.

Eddie crawled back toward him. “We can’t exactly charge up there without a plan.”

“We _have_ a plan.”

“You mean when the bombers were supposed to take out all major artillery or when the tanks weren’t supposed to get stuck? _That_ plan?”

Buckley stared at him. “If we stay here, we’ll die.”

Eddie knew it was the truth, so did the men huddled together, a few nodding. A couple grabbed their packs. 

“We’re going to support the 5th Rangers.”

Buckley’s face lit up at the sound of that voice. “Captain Nash!”

Eddie watched as Buckley embraced his CO in a hug, the other man stepping back with a drained smile, before encouraging Buckley to get down again. “Good to see you, Buckley.” 

He wasn’t used to witnessing such acts of affection among the rank and file, but Eddie could appreciate the moment of relief and warmth, feeling a pang of loss for his missing brothers. Praying they weren’t part of the sea of red he’d been forced to leave behind. 

Buckley plopped down beside Eddie and wrapped an arm around his shoulder with exhausted giddiest. “This is Corporal Diaz. He saved my ass and a helluva lot of others.”

“You’re a medic?” Nash asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. We’ll need you as we help the rangers take on the south cliff.” Nash studied him. “Who are you assigned to?”

“Company K.”

“You’re with us now until we find the others in your platoon,” Nash said.

Buckley clapped Eddie even more. Eddie had no idea what the hell was going on, but he went with it. 

“Where’s Colonel Hill?” Buckley asked. 

“He didn’t make it.”

“Oh, man.” Buckley pulled his arm away and sat there stunned a moment before looking back up at Nash. “Guess that makes you the battalion commander.”

Nash nodded and raised his voice for all to hear. “We’re not climbing this cliff. There’s a trail fifty yards from here. It leads to the village of Les Moulins atop the bluff. We’ll head there as soon as the shelling lifts and support the Rangers securing the bridge. Be ready when I give the order.”

Pulling out a map from his pocket, Nash started moving away before he gestured at them. “Buckley, you stay with Diaz. The two of you stay glued together. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. The unspoken message was clear. Eddie hadn’t seen another medic in hours. There was no way of knowing how many had survived the first invasion wave.

The entire group needed orders and guidance. They were all the survivors of scattered platoons and companies; now they had orders and a plan. Most importantly they were given a moment to regroup after the violence of the morning, something that thousands of others had not been afforded.

Looking down, Eddie noticed that the bandage around Buckley’s leg was gone. Digging through his bag, he pulled out another.

“Don’t.” Buckley grabbed his wrist. “Save it for someone else.”

“You need to keep it warm and dry.”

“I said, I’m good.”

Eddie nodded too tired to argue. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed. “So, what’s your name?”

“Buck.”

Eddie stared at him. “Your name is Buck Buckley?"

“Yeah. So?”

"What, did your parents hate you or were they just worried you'd forget your name, so they made it easy?

“You’re a real crackerjack. It’s actually Evan, but I prefer Buck, okay Specialist _Days_.” Buckley pointed to his head. “I passed all my classes before joining up.”

“ _Days_ is actually the Latin meaning.”

“Seriously? Your name has more than one meaning?”

“Hey doc, could you help me please?” someone called out. 

Eddie grabbed his bag and looked toward the voice seeking help. Before he ran over, he nodded at Buckley. “Diaz actually means son of Diego. But you can call me Eddie.”

Last night when his mission began, Eddie was surrounded by men he’d served with for the last two years. Now, he was under the leadership of a captain he’d never followed before and partnered with a guy with two first names.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

**Vierville-sur-Mer, France**  
_1800 June 6, 1944_

All Buck ever needed was coffee, sleep, and orders to follow. He didn’t have the first two, but he had the last in spades. And that was what Captain Bobby Nash did, bring discipline to chaos. Even if it seemed like their entire situation was FUBAR’d. 

Nash was able to glue together all the various boat groups in something resembling company strength. They had few heavy weapons, no tanks, and no supporting artillery.

Since communication with the other units was still bad, they latched on to a company of Rangers and provided support to help destroy entrenchments atop Pointe du Hoc. 

After twenty-two hours on their feet it was time to rest. They were a sorry looking bunch and would probably not any get shut eye given the constant shelling and gunfire all around them. Then again, Buck was so exhausted he would probably still sleep through it all. 

Buck dropped his pack onto the ground and stared at the pile of rocks in front of him. “Guess this is as good a place as any.”

Eddie started to pull out his entrenching tool and looked over at Buck when he didn’t. “Shouldn’t we dig now?”

“Not unless you’re looking for treasure.” Buck undid out his bedroll. “If we can’t move our position for a while and the ground is good, yeah, we’d dig a place to sleep in.” He finished setting up his stuff and glanced at Eddie. “The rock provides some cover. We’ll be good for a few hours. We’re moving into the bocage in the morning.”

“The bocage?” 

“You know. Big, tall bushes,” Buck said like he was reminding him what the color of the sky was. 

“You _knew_ bocage were called giant bushes?”

“I mean, yeah.” Buck found something very interesting on the ground. “Or maybe the Cap told me.”

Eddie snorted. He started stripping off his rucksack. “You and Captain Nash serve long together?”

“Since boot camp. He saw something in me when I was almost kicked out for disciplinary issues.” Eddie quirked an eyebrow. “I was a kind of a hot head. Still am. But I try to think things out first. Bobby...I mean, Captain Nash was a First Lieutenant before this mission. He got promoted when we started on the boat teams.”

It was later afternoon, almost evening and the temperature started to dip. Buck sat with his back against the rocks, too wired to sleep, and too exhausted to move. He thought of his sister and his mom and dad, wondering how they were doing at this same moment.

By the looks of things, no one else was sleeping. He saw movements among those sacked out on the ground. His gazed strayed toward Eddie curled up on his side and in no way asleep based on the stiff way he held himself. Buck started to tap him on the shoulder and remind him it was best to sleep flat on his back when he saw people heading their way.

“Buckley?”

He recognized that voice. “Nutz?”

Buck started to stand but thought better of it when the wound on his leg sent out an aching reminder. He got to his knees and waved them over with a smile from ear to ear. “Holy shit. Tommy?”

Tommy Kinard was a strapping Redwood of a guy with way too much swagger to be from Brooklyn. And Nutz, Buck couldn’t remember where he was from, somewhere with lots of cornfields which fit the bill since the guy could impersonate a scarecrow. 

Buck was ecstatic when he reunited with two members of his platoon. He offered Nutz a cig and even hugged Tommy Kinard when he discovered he’d made it off the beach. “You old dog. I knew you’d make it.”

“Did you really think I’d drown or something?” Kinard took the pack of smokes from Buck’s fingers and shook one out. “Hey? These are all wet!”

Buck was still giddy. Kinard had been in Boat 3 and he’d swear he saw it get hit. “That’s because they took a swim with me in the ocean.” 

“Yeah?” Kinard pointed at Nutz. “Then how come his is dry?”

Nutz smiled as he blew smoke rings at Kinard. Buck rolled his eyes. “’Cause it was my lucky smoke and I saved it for this knucklehead if we both made it.” He offered his butane lighter but Kinard declined. “You see anyone else?”

“A few.” Kinard stuffed the cigarette between his head and ear. “Frog and Charlie. Dimples.”

“I even saw guys from the second and third squad,” Nutz said.

It sounded like a few dozen from their company had been seen alive at various points. Buck tried to hold on to these who’d made it and grieve for those who hadn’t later. 

He looked over at Eddie who had been obviously awake and listening to them. “Hey, this is Corporal Eddie Diaz.”

“Sir,” both guys said with a nod. 

“I really don’t stand on formality,” Eddie said, sitting up. “Plus, this has to count as an out of service zone, right?”

Nutz and Kinard nodded then continued shooting the shit with Buck. God, it felt good to put the day behind him, just ramble about nothing, gab about stupid shit, and reminisce about the days in the desert.

“So, Diaz, where did you bunk at before here?” Nutz asked. 

Eddie cleared his throat. “Tunisia.” 

Buck grimaced. Freaking Tunisia had been pounded by Rommel. He’d heard the western desert had seen some fierce fighting. 

Kinard took another drag of his smoke. “You worked in the field hospitals?”

“Mainly. Yeah.”

“So. You’re green, huh?”

Eddie didn’t rise to the bait. “I did my fair share at the aid stations.”

“Making sure it was stocked with band aids I’m sure.”

“Yeah, those came in handy when I had to tie down a GI’s femoral artery with my fingertips.”

Nutz shuffled his feet. Buck started to open his mouth but something in Eddie’s expression told him to back off. 

“Sorry,” Kinard said with no hint of apology. “It’s just when you’re out there on the frontlines, you really need to know the guy having your back knows how to shoot a rifle.”

“I know how to shoot.”

“At a moving target?”

Buck smacked Kinard on the shoulder. 

“What? It’s not like they trained with weapons. I just don’t think pacifists should be allowed on the battlefield. With all due respect, Corporal.”

Eddie held his chin high. “Some medics are pacifists, but not all. I joined the war as a medic because I want to help people, not because I was afraid of combat. Now, excuse me.”  
Buck shot a look at Kinard as Eddie pushed stiffly to his feet, then began to move away.

“Why do you always have to be an asshole?” Buck growled. 

Kinard held up his hands. “Hey. You know I’m an asshole and you love it.”

Buck looked over as Eddie walked toward someone and froze like he’d seen a ghost. Said ghost, stood there solemn.

“Holt shit,” Nutz said in awe. “That’s Master Sergeant Han with K-Company.”

Buck narrowed his eyes. “You sound surprised.”

“Last I heard none of them made it.”

“Diaz’s from that company. I even saw him rescue like three guys from his boat.”

Kinard cleared his throat. “Scuttlebutt is most of them made it to eastern bluffs and all got KIA’ed by a mortar attack.”

Buck watched as Eddie was told about the loss of his company: over two hundred brothers. Eddie went stock still. Sergeant Han placed a hand on his shoulder.

Nash joined them, gave what looked like a pep talk to both men. Eddie nodded, stilted, before walking back over.

“Hey.” Buck reached out to touch Eddie on the arm but Eddie just sort of dropped to the ground and sat there. 

Buck opened his mouth to offer condolences, but Eddie started arranging his bedroll. “Captain Nash said we’ll be advancing at 0400.” He looked up at Buck. “Best better get some shuteye.”

Kinard didn’t seem thrilled with the word we. Nutz rolled his eyes at him then nodded at Buck. “Thanks for the smokes.”

Kinard and Nutz rose and headed over to make camp next to a large tree. Buck was torn. He wanted to make sure Diaz was okay, that his head was on straight for the upcoming mission. But his gut told him he’d have nothing to worry about. There was something simmering under Eddie’s _cool under pressure attitude._ Buck couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Medics went through the same training as GIs, except for weapons. In training camp, they’d been segregated into their own barracks apparently for fear of contaminating the _real soldiers._

Enlisted and medics developed little mutual camaraderie. Buck recalled how Lieutenant Miller had despised those in the Medical Corps for being conscientious objectors. Their mere presence ‘cast a moral shadow over what the infantrymen were training to do.’ 

Well, Buck had seen tough-as-nails grunts scream for a medic while under heavy fire and thank the Lord when one came and saved them. _Without a weapon._

Lying down, Buck closed his eyes, hoping for a few hours without dreams, but was willing to settle for the shooting to stop.

* * *

Buck was introduced to Master Sergeant Han when he banged two entrenching tools together to roust them awake. “Rise and shine gentlemen. You have thirty minutes to pack, eat, and move out. So, let’s hop-to.”

“For Pete’s sake,” Buck grumbled bleary-eyed.

Eddie already had his gear all squared away and was munching on his C-rations. 

“You could have warned me the sarge was a tough ass.”

“What’s the fun in that?” Eddie said with a chuckle before finishing his powdered eggs. “Besides. He’s only like that with new guys.” He froze at his words then took a drink from his canteen.

Buck wished there was something he could say, but thought better. Eddie did a quick check of Buck’s leg and nodded seeming satisfied at what he saw. The pain had settled to a dull ache. Another missing chunk of flesh to add to his collection.

Finishing breakfast quickly, Buck got ready in time for Han’s orders. Stretching, he stood next to a couple of guys from H Company. It was strange re-grouping with people he hadn’t trained with. 

“Okay, so let’s get one thing straight,” Han began. “I am Korean. Not Japanese, not Chinese. _Korean_. I’m not a spy and I did not bomb Pearl. Got it?”

One of the guys from H Company laughed and Han got right in his face. “Did I give permission for you to be at ease?”

Everyone stood at attention after that. 

Han gestured at one of the green packs on the ground. “Jay. Carry the radio.”

It was a shit assignment to haul a radio pack around with all the other gear. The Jay kid was not amused. His buddy, Stiers, shook his head at him. “Don’t ever laugh at a superior, numbskull.”

“But it was funny.”

Buck leaned down at Eddie’s ear. “Looks like we’ve got a couple of comedians.”

Kinard walked by as he pulled on his pack. “You go by Jay?”

“You try pronouncing Jachimowicz,” the kid said. “Jay’s easier.”

“Kinard, Nutz, Jay, Buckley, Stiers, and Diaz. You’re with me.” Han waited for everyone to gather closer. “As you know, there’s not enough officers to go around. In fact, at last count there were roughly two for maybe a battalion’s worth of men scattered across the bluffs. Now, the Brits are still trying to secure the beaches, so there are no reinforcements. Not for a while. So, we’re going to keep moving inland with the Rangers.”

“What’s the objective, Sergeant?” Nutz asked. 

“To move into the village ten clicks away.”

“And our squad’s objective?” Kinard added.

“To not get pinned down and killed in those damn bushes.”

_Bocages_ Eddie mouthed under his breath. Han looked at him confused and Buck tried not to bust a gut. 

“Hey, Sergeant.” Jay cleared his throat. “Um…Given how we’re shorthanded in all, should we give the corporal a rifle?”

Eddie looked ready to accept any weapon handed to him, but Han shook his head. “He’s got his side arm. The minute he carries a rifle, we break the rules of the Geneva Convention. We don’t want the Germans to shoot our medics and we sure as hell will not shoot _German_ medics. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” everyone said.

Han earned a point in Buck’s book for standing by the rules. Even though not everyone on both sides did. 

Kinard stood beside Buck, the two of them took up the middle with Han at point. Nutz and Jay took the rear. Eddie was with Stiers behind Buck, their cobbled-together squad going out for the first time just as it started to drizzle. 

The French countryside was truly lovely. Everything was a vivid green, with trees everywhere, and the view across the fields from a rise looked exactly like the rich, gentle land of eastern Pennsylvania. Buck shook his head. It was too beautiful to be part of a war.

* * *

After half an hour Buck changed his mind about the countryside. The bocage sucked. It was nothing but woodlands and fields with ridiculous hedgerows that were taller than anyone in the squad. 

It was like walking through a giant maze, making it easy for the Germans to take pot-shots at them.

“Down!” someone yelled. 

Buck dived to the ground, rolled, then got to one knee. He stared down the barrel of his M1 rifle to return fire only to see nothing but bushes.

For several hours they exchanged shots with the enemy without seeing them. It was a deadly game of hide and seek. Their patrol was so slow-going that another squad had caught up to them a few hours later.

Han ran over to them and ran back to where Buck and the rest were huddled in front of another long row of hedges. “Okay, Staff Sergeant McKenzie is going to take up our rear. Captain Nash wants us to keep pressing forward until we take over the village nine clicks from here.”

Everyone shared exasperated expressions. They’d barely crossed half a click.

The sand of Omaha beach was replaced by shrubs, and the deeper their squad went, the more resistance they encountered. 

The Germans would lie in wait and fire at them from behind one row of hedges, then would fall back behind the next one. It was an attacker’s nightmare and a defender’s dream. 

Damn it, Buck couldn’t even see the whole terrain. “Visual?” he yelled before ducking under another hail of bullets. Buck clenched his jaw against the pain in his leg. He remained in a crouch, listening for the direction of the gun fire. The Germans used Karabiner 98k rifles and they made a distinct popping sound. 

Jay kneeled beside Buck. “I got nuthin’! Where the hell are they?”

Eddie slowly stood and tried to peer through the hedge they were using for cover. “They’re not in the next row.”

“Keep your head down, Diaz!” Han yelled. 

All they could do was hope, shoot, and maneuver. Buck didn’t know where he was going. None of them did. Move, move, move. 

“There!” Buck yelled. 

Six Germans were moving behind smaller hedgerow and, in the distance, Buck could make out a large house behind them. That was their base of operations. Had to be.

“We need to take over that chateau!” Han ordered.

Jay, Stiers and Nutz went to their bellies and opened fire. 

None of the enemy went down. 

“The hell with this.” Kinard jumped up from a crouch and tossed a grenade.

Buck and Han followed suit, trying to blow up the bushes and the Germens hidden behind them. 

For the briefest of seconds Buck thought they’d done it. Maybe the enemy had been a small patrol just jumping in and out of the hedgerows because they’d been familiar with the layout. 

But fate had other plans. Three jeeps drove out from the château. At least a dozen Germans jumped out to join their friends and several of them were carrying M9 bazookas.

* * *

Someone pushed Eddie to the ground before the area was hit by explosions. His helmet slipped off his head and he scrambled to put it back on. 

The air filled with the sound of rifle and machine guns. Eddie had endured combat before, mostly at a distance, but being in the heat of battle rattled his eardrums. 

Normally, he would be in the reserve trenches behind the frontlines, but those hadn’t been established yet. So, he did his best to avoid getting shot or being in the way of the infantry men returning fire. 

He heard Stiers screaming from a few meters away. 

Eddie crawled toward him and discovered Jay sprawled next to his buddy, unconscious.

Stiers was gripping what was left of one arm with his remaining hand. The arm was gone, almost to the shoulder. He stared over at Eddie terrified, his completion gray and getting grayer. 

As Eddie reached him, Jay sat straight up with a gasp. Looking down at the front of his bloody shirt, the other man started to panic. 

“Jay. Listen to me. I need you to press down on the hole in your shoulder with your right hand.” Eddie gave him instructions on how to control the bleeding while he sprinkled sulfa powder over what was left of Stiers’ arm. 

“Diaz…,” Jay cried. “It hurts.”

“I know it does.” Eddie pulled two ampoules of morphine out of his pack. “Watch how I inject this into Stiers’ leg, okay?”

After injecting Stiers the pain relief, Eddie explained to Jay how to use the other ampoule while he tied a tourniquet at what was left of Stiers’ arm. 

The ground shook from another explosion, but Eddie’s focus was bandaging up Stiers’ wound. He glanced over at Jay who had quieted down.

“Jay? You good?”

“Yeah,” Jay slurred. 

“Everyone fall back! Fall back!”

Eddie couldn’t tell which direction Han was shouting from, but he needed to get moving. 

Pulling Stiers to his feet, Eddie slung him across his shoulders and started running in the direction of Han’s voice. “Come on, Jay!”

Jay got to wobbly legs and started walking in the wrong direction.

“Damn it.” Eddie carried Stiers toward the sounds of the firefight. “Han! Buckley?”

“Diaz?”

Knowing his squad was behind the next row, Eddie shouted. “Don’t shoot! I’m coming through!” 

Taking a deep breath, Eddie took a running dive through the hedges.

“Holy crap!” someone yelped. 

Eddie quickly deposited Stiers beside the legs of a GI and then jumped back through the hedges again to get Jay.

* * *

Eddie didn’t remember much after dragging Jay to safety and finding his squad. 

Buck and Nutz flanked Eddie, keeping him covered during another attack. 

“Medic!”

It was instinct to take off at the sound of help. Buck yelled at him to stay put. 

Somehow Eddie made it to another row of hedges to help a private who’d stepped on a landmine. 

Time blurred.

After what seemed like an entirety the fighting stopped. Eddie sat on his haunches and stared at his blood covered hands. 

Han walked over toward him, worn and weary. “Couple of the guys from the other squad are going to transport the wounded away.”

“How’s Stiers?” But Eddie knew the answer based on Han’s expression. “Are the aid stations set up?”

Han bit his bottom lip. “I don’t know. But we can’t treat them here.” Then he pulled out a canteen and offered it. “You need to stay hydrated.”

Eddie barked out a quick, humorless laugh. “That’s my line.” 

Squatting beside him, Han patted Eddie on the shoulder. “You did good out there, bud. You saved a lot of guys. And we’re going to need you to stay on the top of your game. Understand?”

Before Eddie could give him muted thanks, he heard the whistling sound of another mortar. They were under attack again.

* * *

There was no time to rest. They moved at a snail’s pace dodging booby traps, bullets, and bombs. It was dizzying. 

Eddie kept his head down and treated the wounded. A third unit had joined them and for every hour that passed at least one GI was killed or injured. Eddie tended them the best he could, members of his squad always there to provide cover. 

Nutz and Han took turns, but no matter the assault or conditions, Buck was always there, taking a point over Eddie as he worked. He’d never experience that before during the war.

* * *

After ten hours of cat and mouse, they’d secured the château. Eddie dragged himself to the main room and slumped down in the corner. His face was covered in grime and dirt and his legs felt like rubber. It took a moment before he realized his hands were shaking.

“Here.” Eddie looked up at Buck who held out a wet rag. “For the cuts.”

“Cuts?”

Buck plopped down beside him. “Your neck and face are all scratched up from the bushes.”

“You mean the bocages?”

Buck snorted. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “Hell of a day.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie took the rag and dabbed at the scratches along his neck. One of them was kind of deep. _Huh._ He hadn’t even noticed. 

As exhaustion started to settle into his bones, his eyes opened on their own accord, instinct taking over. He rolled onto his knees. “I should check your leg. How does it feel?”

“Aches. Bled a few times, but it stopped again.”

Eddie peeled back the bandage. The skin didn’t look infected, but he applied disinfectant on a clean dressing and reapplied it. Too bad there wasn’t anywhere to get fresh trousers. Damn. His medical bag was nearly empty. 

While he took one final look at the bandage, Eddie felt Buck’s gaze, watching him quietly. “Thanks for what you did out there. For the guys.”

“Just did my job,” Eddie answered. He looked up at Buck. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Yeah, well. That’s _my_ job.” It looked like Buck wanted to say something else but didn’t. 

Putting things back into med kit, Eddie’s right hand twitched. He shook it a few times to calm it down. He caught Buck watching him again and Eddie quickly sat against the wall and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“You know it happens to a lot of guys,” Buck said. “The shakes.”

“It can’t happen to me.”

“Why? Because you’re Superman?”

“Hardly.” Eddie swallowed against flashes from Tunisia and the screams that still haunted him. “I have to stitch wounds, tie down blood vessels. I need to be steady.”

“I have to fire a rifle. If my shot strays, I could kill someone in the unit, or worse, not hit my target. People might die. So, I get it.”

Eddie studied the way Buck’s eyes burned with emotional pain, his shoulders tense. _He really did get it._ “I’m sorry,” Eddie said his voice soft. “It’s a heavy burden.”

“It is. But it’s not one we have to carry alone.” Buck draped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie really wished he believed Buck’s sentiment; more often than not, he felt like the only thing standing between a person and death. Still, he tried to soak in some of Buck’s optimism, nodding at the other man’s continued need to cheer him up.

It felt good to smile, and felt even better when Buck grinned at him ear to ear in return.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

_June 8, 1944_

The château smelled like urine and gun oil. The inside was wrecked, but Buck had camped out in worse places. 

The house was in the middle of the hedges and only four clicks from the village. It’d been three days since the invasion, and it seemed like the generals had finally gotten their shit together to formulate new plans. 

Those who had survived the landing had to push inland. But that was easier said than done.

* * *

Buck wasn’t prepared for the bombings. They’d started at dawn. Squadrons of Typhoons roared overhead shooting rockets. The raids were so loud he couldn’t hear himself think.

There were two other squads hunkering down inside with them. Most were sweating and pale. 

Han walked toward some of the guys and spoke to them and then crouched in front of Eddie. “How are you doing?”

“What the hell is going on?” Eddie yelled.

“The boys up there are just making it easier for us in the morning,” Han said. 

“The village?”

“Yeah.” Han waited for a lull in the bombing. “Scouts spotted Panzer tanks.”

This meant they expected the infantry to take point in the morning to provide recon for Allied tank divisions.

Eddie nodded like he understood, but he was still wound tighter than bow. They all were. Han must have sensed it and dug through his pockets and pulled out some chewing gum. “Use this.”

Eddie stared at Han realization dawning as he watched the other man stuff a wad in his ears. With another pat to Eddie’s knee, Han got up and started checking in with some of the younger guys.

It was nice to see that Han was looking after his men, and that he and Eddie had a bond. 

The gum thing was actually a good idea. Buck searched his rations for his pack, but he’d chewed it all out of a nervous habit during the fighting yesterday.

Another near-by explosion rattled the walls. Buck started to hug himself when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Eddie held up a half a stick gum. It was obviously his last piece. 

Buck took it, touched by the generosity of such a simple gesture. He smiled. “Thanks.”

Eddie nodded and stuffed the other half of gum into his ears then put on his helmet. 

While most of the other guys flinched with every blast, Kinard pulled out a pen and some paper.

Nutz, who was sitting next to him, flicked his nose. “Seriously, Tommy? You’re writing a letter during all of this?”

Kinard shrugged like it was no big deal. 

After one squadron was done, another flew by. Over and over and over again. 

One member from H-Company started crying. His buddy tried consoling him. Another kid curled up in a ball. Buck was torn. He wanted to help, but there wasn’t anything he could do, not when he was just as terrified by the bombardment. 

Then Buck heard a voice during the next lull. He turned his head as Eddie started singing. “I found my thrill. On Blueberry hill. On Blueberry Hill, when I found _you._ ”

“The moon stood still, on Blueberry Hill. And lingered until, my dream came true,” Han sang.

Buck joined them. “I found my thrill, on Blueberry Hill. On Blueberry Hill, when I found _you.”_

Soon everyone took part, enjoying a moment during the quiet, and when the bombing increased, they sang it again.

* * *

By the time the sun rose, the barrage had stopped. It was time to go.

Han stared gathering them together. “We move out in five.” 

There were a couple of replacements for Stiers and Jay, but Buck couldn’t remember their names.

Other parts of the regiment were still fighting in the hedgerows while Buck and his squad moved out with a few others. They were a whole platoon strong: one hundred men. Two more platoons followed behind them.

Buck looked back at the château and at the fields that stretched further than the eye could see. As they walked, green farmland slowly turning into beginnings of a village. Or the remains of one. 

The dirt roads were littered with dead horses and burning vehicles. The destruction was overwhelming. Small craters marred the hills while smoke still wafted in the air where homes once stood.

“What happened to everyone who was here?” one of the newbies asked.

“The Germans killed them way before we got here,” Kinard said, flicking a cigarette to the ground.

Nutz walked beside Buck. “Something tells me we’re about to get in the middle of something big.”

“Like what?” Eddie asked.

“One thing you’ll learn, Diaz, is they don’t tell us anything,” Nutz said, chomping gum. “Only where to point and shoot.”

* * *

Moving up along the dirt road, Buck took point as they crossed hurriedly abandoned German trenches. He paused, holding up his hand when he spotted the steeple of a church. Licking his lips, Buck tried reconciling with the fact that among all the smoldering ruins, this little church was still standing. 

He started moving forward again when he heard a roaring sound. But instead of the rumble of tanks, it came from the sky. Looking up, he shielded his eyes with his hand.

“Junkers!” 

_German dive bombers._ Buck’s heart raced. 

“Take cover in the trenches!” Han yelled. 

Everyone scattered. 

Shells screamed in and exploded, smashing trees, and churning up the ground. 

Buck scanned the foxhole, searching for his friends. He spotted Nutz’s lanky frame and Tommy’s broad shoulders. He heard Han shouting into the radio for a status update, but the longer Buck searched, the more worried he got. 

_Where the hell was Eddie?_

Still in his foxhole, Buck couldn’t see much beyond earth and rumble, but he did hear Han yell for them all to get up and pull back. 

Buck could feel panic in the air as he started walking and searching for Diaz. 

Men hurried down the path they’d just come down; the dirt road clogged with troops in full retreat.

More artillery shells and mortar fire started falling around them. Buck dove into another ditch for cover. When the shelling stopped, he looked over to find Eddie working on an injured guy. 

_Thank God._ Buck thought he’d lost him. Walking over, he froze. “What the hell?”

The injured soldier was wearing a German uniform. Buck pointed his rifle at him. “Eddie, move away.”

“Not until he’s stabilized.”

Buck was dumbstruck. He watched as Eddie finished tying a tourniquet to the soldier’s thigh then actually gave him a drink of water from his canteen.

“‘Kamerad, bitte,” the kid mumbled, who, Buck realized, was probably only eighteen years old. 

“Buckley! Diaz!”

“Come on, man. We have to evac now.” Protocol was to take the solider prisoner. But Buck noticed he had another bandage around his other leg and wouldn’t be mobile. Not to mention he wasn’t sure how some in the platoon would react. _“Eddie.”_

“I’m done.”

Buck practically grabbed Eddie by the arm and dragged him back onto to the road and hurried him along to catch up with the rest of their squad.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Han yelled. “Move your ass.”

They double-timed it back toward the chateau as they retreated from the very village that they’d bombed just the night before.

* * *

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Buck stared at Eddie as he stood in the furthest corner of the chateau. “What were you doing?”

“My job.”

“Your job is to treat _our_ guys.”

“My job is to alleviate the suffering of the wounded and sick. Not only that, it’s an oath I swore to uphold.”

Buck felt his chest heave. “He could have shot you. You could have been killed.”

Eddie was trapped in the corner, but he did not back down an inch. “He was left behind and had shrapnel wounds to both legs.”

“And if his buddies found you?” Buck stepped closer. “Do you really think the enemy always follows the rules of war?”

“I _know_ they don’t.” Nostrils flaring, Eddie moved within an inch of Buck’s face. “But I’m still going to do it anyway.”

Buck was angry, hurt, and in awe. “Then next time, how about asking for some cover?”

Eddie’s jaw hung open, but no words came out. He scrunched up his face in confusion; whatever he was gearing up to yell was just…gone.

Buck smiled. “Come on, it sounds like the shooting stopped for a second. Let’s grab some rations.”

He didn’t even look back to see if Eddie was following behind him.

* * *

_June 12, 1944_

For three more days, they went back and forth trying to retake the ruined village.

On day four, the 7th Armored Division was finally able to roll in and gained more ground. They captured the village ten hours later. 

Buck and his squad stood outside the little church he’d seen the other day, waiting for instructions. 

Captain Nash arrived with a fresh supply convey. He thanked everyone for their hard work, congratulating the assembled battalion. “Now, I want everyone to get some rest and be prepared for tomorrow.”

“Where we headin’ Cap?”

“We’re going to encircle the port of Cherbourg.”

It made sense to open a supply chain from the sea to the battlefield. But Buck couldn’t even muster up enough energy to cheer.

After his speech, Nash made a beeline toward Han. 

“Sir,” Han saluted. 

“I want you to gather all the guys from G Company. Everyone’s rotating to the reserve lines.”

Soldiers rotated into and out of the front lines to provide a break from combat. Usually they spent four to six days in the front trenches before moving back and spending an equal number of days in the secondary and, finally, the reserve lines. The fact they got to skip a step in between almost made him light-headed.

Buck’s entire being sagged in relief. “Seriously?”

Nash smiled at him. “You’ve earned it.” 

Giddy with relief, Buck found Nutz and Tommy and told them the good news. Then he located Eddie who was finished treating someone in a makeshift cot. 

He practically bounced up and down on his feet. “Guess what? We’re getting rotated out.”

Eddie’s whole face lit up. Buck clapped him on both shoulders. “We get to sleep and maybe eat real food. Hell, we might even find some whiskey or beer.”

“I could go for some beer.”

“And _that_ , Diaz, is out next mission.” Buck threw his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and started steering him away. “We are going to find some hooch and we’re going to get piss drunk.”

* * *

Eddie had spent time out of the line in Tunisia. A week of fourteen-hour days at the field hospital took their toll and rotating out to get rest was important. In North Africa, though, there were temporary bases; behind the line at Normandy looked very much like the front lines except with less shooting. There was no recreation, or a mess hall, or even an officer’s quarters.

In fact, it looked like they were still being built by the very men who were pulled from the front. 

Almost every private and private first class was sweating it out and digging ditches, helping unload supplies from the ships and erecting tents. 

“Buckley, Diaz, over here.” Han waved them over. “Look what Captain Nash was able to grab for us.”

“Are these real cots?” Suddenly all of Eddie’s aches and pains started flaring up. “My back will be singing the cap’s praises tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? And what about your sergeant’s praises?” Han kicked over a couple of green bags. 

Eddie recognized those duffels, his face splitting into a huge grin. “I could hug you. In fact…,” He pulled Han into an embrace which was reciprocated with vigor. “Thanks, man.” Eddie held onto his friend; grateful they were still both around after the last week of hell. 

“I told you, Eds. We’re going to get through this. For our guys.”

Eddie dug his fingers into Han’s shoulders, but he did not cry. He held everything in. For his brothers in arms, for his family back home. Biting his lip, he pulled away. Han squeezed his biceps, looking a little misty-eyed.

“So…pup tents. Nice.”

Buck didn’t sound very excited. Eddie glanced at him, noticing his clenched jaw and odd tone of voice. Eddie kind of glared at him with saying anything. The one thing he learned in the Army, always appreciate your superiors, especially when you don’t have to sleep on the ground for once. 

Buck must have gotten the hint. “Um. Thanks, sir. It’ll be nice to sleep in this tonight.”

Han nodded. “You’re welcome. Now, I don’t know about you, but I stink.”

Eddie avoided sniffing at his own clothes. He nodded goodbye to Han and stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do now that he didn’t have an order to follow. 

“I guess we should find some rations or something.”

Eddie stared at Buck as he walked away, confused by his strange change in mood.

* * *

The communal showers consisted of wooden frame that held giant barrels overhead. Carrying a bar of soap with him, Eddie stripped off undershirt and boxers and hung them on a nail with his issued towel. Since laundry services were still not up and running, his uniform was soaking in a drum of water. 

He walked under the barrel and pulled on the twine that released the cork and a slow trickle of water. He yelped in surprise even though he expected it to be cold. Lathering the soap, Eddie tried wiping away a week’s worth of grime in under two minutes. 

After a quick rinse, he plugged the cork back in and hurried out to grab his towel.

“I guess they couldn’t even set up hoses, huh?”

Eddie wrapped the towel around his waist while Buck stared at the barrels. “No pumps or water pressure.”

Buck cleared his throat as his gaze shifted down Eddie’s chest. “Wow. That looks recent.”

Eddie blinked in confusion before he realized Buck was staring at the puckered skin below his clavicle. “It was.”

Buck eagerly started undoing the buttons of his shirt. “You should see the collection I’ve started to gain.”

But Eddie wasn’t interested in looking at Buck’s scars, knowing his brain would be able to identify exactly which weapon created what wound, what caused the skin discoloration, which types of sutures were probably used and at what skill level. 

Eddie curled his fingers around Buck’s hand. “Please don’t. I…,” He didn’t want to imagine the violence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t….” Eddie dropped his hand. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Buck stopped unbuttoning his shirt. “No worries.” Swallowing, he looked at Eddie with a soft expression. “Look, I think I found us a couple bottles of beer. Nutz knows someone who knows someone who’ll make a trade. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Okay. As long as he didn’t trade any of our chocolate for it.”

* * *

It felt good to be clean. While his uniform was hung up to dry, Eddie had been able to scavenge a fresh t-shirt and some trousers from the supply officer who was setting up his inventory. 

He sat on the ground next to his tent, sipping on the beer Buck had traded for. He tried not to grimace whenever he took a swallow. Every GI was given beer rations, but when those were hard to come by, people bootlegged it out of whatever they could find.

“What’s with the face?” Buck asked. 

“Just wondering what died in this bottle?” It didn’t even have a label. 

“Don’t be so picky.”

Buck slouched down next to Eddie, both leaning against a giant oak tree. Nutz sat across from them, already seemingly buzzed. He kept falling against Kinard who kept trying to push him a way, but eventually gave up with a sigh. 

Nutz finally got the hint and sat cross-legged, contemplating his beer with a loving gaze before downing half the bottle. 

“I’d be careful chugging too much of that,” Eddie warned with a chuckle.

“It’s all right, Corporal. I think the whole point is to get sauced.”

Eddie didn’t want to wake up with double vision, so he took it easy while everyone else started on their second, then third bottle. 

That was until Han dropped by with rum. 

Eddie sniffed at the offered flask with suspicion.

“It’s real,” Han said offended.

Eddie almost choked on his first swallow.

“I didn’t say it was _good_.”

After a couple of shots, Eddie felt loose. He sat back against the tree and listened to Nutz tell everyone about the time Buck stole all the officer’s c-rations during the holidays.

“Hey, they got hams and we got tinned meat.” Buck threw up his hands. “How’s that fair?’

“Remember when Nash stole tires from the Marine motor pool?” Nutz almost fell into Kinard’s lap in laughter.

“They were throwing them away,” Buck defended. “He was just re-using them.”

Kinard moved Nutz away with his elbow. “I don’t think Major Lawrence saw it that way. Why do you think Nash’s only a Captain?” 

Buck glared at his buddy. “Hey now.”

“Calm down, Buckley, we all know he’s the big cheese.”

Silence started to settle, and Eddie’s eyes were getting heavy. Time must have drifted because he startled when Buck started talking again. “So, Tommy. Are you writing to your girl again?”

“None of your business.”

“Got a picture?” Han asked. 

“Yeah, he keeps it in a locket with his dog tags.”

Han looked at Nutz in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Piss off,” Kinard grumbled at his buddy. 

“Well, here’s mine.” Nutz pulled a picture from his pocket and showed it to Han. “Melinda. What about you, Sergeant?”

“I don’t have picture, but she’s in England.” Han rested his hand on his knees in thought, taking a swig from the flask. “I think.” 

“And you, Diaz?” Nutz asked. 

“What? No.”

“No one? Seriously?” Nutz started nudging Eddie’s ankle with his boot. “I saw you looking at a picture the other night.”

Buck brought his beer up to his lips and paused, listening. 

“That’s my son.” Eddie pulled out a picture of Christopher and held it up. 

Nutz looked at it confused. “What’s with the braces? He got polio?”

Kinard elbowed him. “Idiot.”

“He has cerebral palsy.”

“Is that why you’re studying medicine?” Buck asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a part of it.” 

Eddie didn’t elaborate on why he became a medic; his feelings were complicated. But he had no problem showing off his son and he allowed Buck to study the black can white photo. 

Buck grinned when he looked at it. “He’s cute as a button.”

Normally Eddie was used to people looking a picture of his son with sympathy, but Buck was still smiling when he gave it back. Eddie stuffed the picture into a thin leather wallet and put it securely away with a contented smile of his own.

* * *

“So, we all know why Diaz joined up. Tommy was drafted.” Nutz blew circles of smoke from his cigarette. “Why did you join, Sergeant?”

“Because it was either serve or work in a meat packing plant. The army was safer.”

Everyone laughed. Eddie knew it wasn’t really funny, but he chuckled in dark humor. Life was fragile. Closing his eyes, he took another drink of rum. 

“Wadda ‘bout you, Buck?”

“I worked in the coal mines since I was fourteen to help my family. When I was old enough to enlist…I did.”

Eddie could tell by the heaviness of Buck’s voice there was more to it. 

Han was obviously doing the math in his head. “Shouldn’t you be a Sergeant by now?”

Buck stared at his beer with a pout. 

Nutz snickered and Kinard even cracked a smile. “That’s what being a hot head will get ya. Maybe next time don’t tell your CO that _he_ should try eating off the floor after you polished it.”

This time it was Eddie who burst into laughter.

* * *

“…so Buck pushed Nash out of the way of a sniper and caught a bullet instead. What was that?” Nutz slurred. “Your second or third purple heart?”

Buck’s cheeks were flushed, and his voice got gravely when he got excited. “Well, not to brag….”

For the first time since meeting him, Eddie finally witnessed Kinard laugh out loud. He even bent over to control it. “Sure, man.”

Buck didn’t even look offended. “You’re just jealous you don’t have more chest candy.”

“Hey, Tommy’s got a Commendation Medal,” Nutz said, elbowing his buddy.

Kinard returned to stoic in seconds, nodding at Han. “And I heard the Sergeant here has a bronze star.”

The group looked over at Han with even more respect. Buck clanked his beer bottle to Han’s flask. “You win!”

Han laughed. “Yeah? What does the winner get again?” 

“I don’t remember.” Buck looked at the others then back at Han. “Um, smokes? No…extra socks.”

“Hell, then. Diaz wins.”

All eyes landed on Eddie in surprise. Eddie looked away but could still feel the collective gaze on him. 

“Yeah?” Buck asked.

Eddie cleared his throat. “I think you deserve the socks, Howie.”

Han frowned. He looked at Eddie in apology, but Eddie shook his head letting him know it was fine. 

“Seriously? You can’t stop there,” Nutz whined. “What’s the story? Spill the beans.”

“I’m not much of a storyteller and neither is the sergeant.”

Eddie could tell that wasn’t going to satisfy anyone’s curiosity, but that wasn’t his problem. 

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I actually want to sleep before doing manual labor in the morning.” Kinard stood and pulled Nutz to his feet despite his protests. “Later, gentlemen.”

“He’s right. I’m exhausted,” Han said. 

Buck frowned at him in disappointment. “Hey, wait. Sergeant.”

Han left and Buck grumbled under his breath. “We actually still have more beer.”

Eddie pulled out his canteen of water and handed it to Buck. “Try this. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

* * *

Eddie stared up at the sky but couldn’t find a single star with all the lingering smoke still in the air. He tried picturing where they were on a map, and how much further they needed to go. How many weeks or months until he could hug his boy. 

His thoughts drifted into melancholy when heard Buck tripping over his own feet when he returned from taking a piss at a nearby tree. 

Pushing open the tent flap he crawled into the cot next to Eddie’s and chucked off his boots and trousers. He started snoring a few minute later. Eddie took a moment and gently moved Buck onto his side so he could breathe a little better, smiling when Buck settled into a deeper, peaceful sleep.

* * *

_The screaming was awful._

_“Medic!”_

_“Help us!”_

_Eddie started running toward the room when he heard gunfire. His feet skidded to a halt, his heart pounding, his mind panicked. Torn by indecision and fear, he tried to catch his breath, to think, when four more shots rang out._

_Slowly all the sand of the desert started melting into water, the bodies started floating among the pounding ocean waves and washed ashore beaches stained red. Eddie unable to save a single soul._

“Eddie. Hey, Eddie!”

Eddie bolted up with his fists raised.

“Easy, it’s me. Buckley.”

“Buck?”

“Yeah. You were…screaming.”

Eddie sucked in a breath to calm his racing heart. _Shit._ “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It happens.”

Eddie lay there, rubbing at his burning eyes, mortified. Buck was quiet, giving him space. 

“Were you thinking about the landing?”

“Yes. No. Mainly…Tunisia.”

“Want to--”

“No. I’m good. I’m sorry.” Eddie sighed. He _never_ wanted to talk about it. “Try to get back to sleep.”

The cot beside him squeaked as Buck shifted around. But Eddie didn’t fall asleep. He tried not to toss and turn and keep Buck awake. And the harder he tried, the harder it was to keep the rising panic at bay.

“You know…I carry around a picture of my sister, Maddie. She means the world to me. She serves in the Army Nurse Corps.”

Eddie licked his lips. “Is she the reason why you enlisted?”

“She showed me there was a way out from digging coal. And she was right. It took me a while to learn discipline. But being in the Army? Helping protect my unit, to do whatever it takes to keep my folks safe from ever being attacked. It’s everything to me.”

Listening to Buck talk about his time in the Army and how much it meant to him, soothed Eddie’s racing thoughts, gave him focus. Buck was good at what he did. Calm under pressure, brave, accurate with a weapon. 

“I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a nurse. The Army medic training was combined with basic. I’m out here to triage and keep people alive until they reach the hospital,” he admitted.

“You keep men alive while being shot at. If that ain’t the definition of bravery, I don’t know what is. What you do is important.”

But did he do enough? Eddie never felt like he did. 

“Do you like it?” Buck asked after a beat.

“I like helping people.”

“When this is all over, keep doing it, Eddie. Take something good home from this awful war and leave everything else on the battlefield.”

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

_June 17, 1944_

Five days in the reserve line went by quick. All hands were needed in establishing a base of operations. Buck and Eddie joined Nutz and Tommy in the construction.

They dug ditches, created temporary water pumps, laid down fuel lines, and put up every type of tent imaginable for housing, offices, and storage.

It was better than getting shot at. 

On the last day before re-deployment to the frontlines, Buck found a stray dog, a mutt who enjoyed eating scraps from his hand. It was 0430 and quiet for the first time in five days. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the end, dragging on it a moment, relishing the early calm. 

He scratched the ears of his morning companion, wondering what time he and Eddie would need to get in line for chow. Yesterday was the first real day the mess had been fully set; they were able to eat more substantial food: real eggs from the ships, bacon, fruit and even creamed beef.

Buck finished his smoke just as Eddie crawled out of the pup tent. He wandered outside in his boxers and bare feet, stretching his arms out until his shoulders cracked, his dog tags clanking against his chest. 

Buck wondered if Eddie was a boxer back home, he had the perfect height and lean muscle for it. Swallowing, Buck turned away to keep from staring for too long.

“Morning,” Eddie mumbled.

“Morning,” Buck said a little too cheery.

Eddie sat on the small fallen tree that Buck was occupying. “You ready for today?”

“Yeah. You?”

“As much as I can be.”

“You scared?” Buck asked. 

“I would be stupid not to be. But we have a job to do.”

Buck nodded and Eddie looked thoughtful. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” they said at the same time. 

Buck shook his head as they laughed in unison.

* * *

During their time off the line, the rest of the forces had moved and surrounded Cherbourg, a city at the end of the peninsula with a base of enemy forces. Capturing it would remove a threat from the rear before they advanced south. 

Captain Nash was joined by Major Vincent Gerrard who liked pointing at maps that no one standing in the back could see. “Cherbourg had been successfully isolated. The Germans can’t bring in reinforcements or supplies. Your job is to cut across the peninsula and take the city.”

Nash finished the debriefing with, “Before attacking Cherbourg, there will be a heavy aerial bombardment to pound the city’s defenses.”

Buck looked at Eddie, who shook his head before pulling out a new pack of chewing gum and handing it to him.

* * *

**Cherbourg, France**   
_June 22, 1944_

It felt like the invasion of Utah beach, except they were on dry land. Three Infantry divisions: over twenty thousand strong. 

Wave after wave of bombers dropped their payload over the small city, when one squadron returned, another flew overhead. Sometimes, Buck made a game out of trying to read the call letters as they zoomed by.

It occurred to him that he should be used to these sounds by now, and Buck wondered if he’d ever be able to forget them once the war was over.

The scream for medics started early, a distant echo between all the bombs. Friendly fire was a problem when advanced platoons were told to stand so close to the frontline. It made Buck appreciate the bravery of those who ran into the fiercest danger to drag the rest of them out.

Buck glanced behind him; Eddie was permanently assigned to G Company, specifically, to their new unit: 4th Platoon. He would remain rear to any action until needed; Buck prayed it wasn’t often.

He knew better though.

* * *

After four hours, the infantry started in ahead of the tanks. Once again Buck was amazed at the lushness of surrounding farmland compared to the burning smoke ahead. 

They started taking heavy fire at the outskirts of the city.

“Incoming!”

Buck spent the next hour trying to avoid being blown apart by heavy artillery.

* * *

Progress was slow; machine gun nests were set up in rows of heavy cement bunkers protecting the outside of the city. German troops used the heavy barrage for cover, shooting at them whenever the big guns needed to be re-loaded.

Buck crawled across the grass, inch by inch. If he stood up, he’d be cut in two by the constant fire. 

They hadn’t even neared the main road before getting pinned down.

“Fall back! Fall back!” Platoon leaders yelled.

Men started running in retreat. Buck watched as they were riddled with bullets. Dozens killed in seconds. 

There was nowhere to go. If they remained, they would get blow apart my mortars. If they ran, they’d get shot in the back.

“What now?” Nutz yelled.

“That!” Buck pointed.

Allied armored vehicles slowly made their way across the fields. Teams operated giant Howitzers—large, heavy, 105 mm guns set on top of box trail carriages with wheels. 

German heavy guns started firing at them, leaving the Howitzers pinned down. Buck seized the opportunity. “Lie down cover!” 

Nutz and Kinard joined Buck, firing at the German troops surrounding the machine gun nests, giving the rest of the platoon the needed room to move out of range. Then Han and the others returned the favor.

After sprinting thirty meters, Buck dived behind a hill, landing ungracefully on his belly, and jarring his wrists.

“Well, that was fun,” Nutz huffed in his ear before taking a drag off his Lucky Strike.

* * *

It took almost an hour to set up a dozen 105 mm guns, but once they were in position, they obliterated the machine gun nests in less than hour.

Han gestured for the rest of the squad to follow as they finally made it onto the road. “Keep moving, keep moving!”

The great thing about Howitzers was that they were scary as hell —the bad thing about them was that they were hard to move. Two more platoons joined them as they continued toward the southwest part of town. Buck kept an eye for his guys as they kept in formation. 

As soon as they reached the main road, they met fierce resistance. 1st Platoon got picked off two and three at a time. Bodies piled up all around him. Buck lost count of the number of wounded GIs he helped move to the side.

There were too many homes with too many people firing at them from multiple locations. 

Biting his lip, Buck tapped Han’s shoulder, and the two of them dashed toward the next hill for cover.

* * *

Cherbourg was much bigger than Buck imagined. It was dense with rows of buildings, most in various stages of destruction. The roads were marred with gaping holes and tons of debris, the massive destruction camouflaging enemy movement and pillboxes with heavy weapons. 

After a whole day of firing from afar, they began street fighting. One platoon would take over a building only to be fired upon from the next one. 

And now they were on an incline as they entered the city-center. 

“Holy shit! Down, down!” Han yelled. 

The road where Buck and Kinard stood only seconds ago was pulverized. 

“What the hell is that?” a private yelled. 

“A goddamn anti-tank gun!” Kinard screamed. 

“We’re too exposed. Take cover where you can,” Han ordered.

They fanned out, trying to dive into the closet building not occupied by the enemy, the deadly German 88mm raining hell down upon them. 

The building behind them, the remains of a factory, was obliterated from the shelling, large pieces flying everywhere. 

“Help!”

Buck blinked against the dust in the air, searching for the source of the yelling. It was Nutz. He was trapped under pieces of rubble. 

“Hold on!” Kinard yelled and started running toward his friend. 

“Kinard! Wait! Damn it.” Buck fired at the cement bunker, trying to provide cover. 

But a bunker of cement concealed more than just heavy artillery—members of the German infantry opened fire.

Kinard was struck in the helmet and dropped where he stood. “Tommy!” Buck yelled. But running out into the open was suicide. 

“I got him!” 

Eddie sprinted toward their fallen comrade. Bending over Tommy, Eddie examined his head, and checked his pulse. 

Buck chewed on his lip; ready to provide cover, but for the moment, the Germans were honoring the code of not firing at combat medics. 

But the battle was fierce and chaotic and some of the enemy in _other_ distant buildings either didn’t see Eddie’s helmet, or didn’t care, and tried taking shots at him anyway. It didn’t matter. Eddie continued to help Kinard by pulling him to his feet while bullets ricocheted the ground. 

Eddie carried Kinard across the open field of fire and deposited him under some twisted debris across the street before dashing back toward Nutz.

Battles everywhere raged on.

The giant anti-tank weapon began another barrage, firing at the smoldering remains of the factory and forcing most of their squad into the open. Enemy forces occupied the surrounding structures and the only thing they had for cover was the scattered rubble. 

“We could really use some artillery support,” Han yelled into his radio.

“3rd Platoon has entered the post office around the block,” someone reported. 

They were not leaving anyone behind. 

Buck watched out of the corner of his eye while Eddie struggled to free Nutz from under the debris in the middle of the street. 

“I think I can close enough to help,” a private shouted.

“No!” Han yelled.

As soon as the kid started running toward Eddie and Nutz, he was struck down. 

“Damn it,” Han growled. 

“I have an idea!” Buck gestured at Han. “I need some explosives.”

“What?”

Han stared back at him, but Buck insisted. “I need to take out that damn gun and we can’t do that with bullets.”

Han frowned, but dug through his pack while Buck searched his pockets for duct tape. Han pulled out some Composition C. “This is a bad idea,” he said, handing a wad to Buck. 

They were pinned down with little options. The only way he could help his platoon, could help Eddie and Nutz, was to give them a chance. Buck grabbed a piece of detritus and attached the explosive to it, creating a sticky bomb.

Han crawled around until he found a long, skinny piece of wood. Buck took it from his hand and looked him in the eyes. “I can do this.”

Taking the sticky bomb, Buck taped it to the wood, creating the crudest pole charge in history. 

“Everyone, on me,” Han ordered. “Give Buckley cover fire!”

Buck started crawling toward the machine gun post. He hadn’t drawn any enemy attention yet, so he kept crawling, inching closer as his platoon kept shooting, kept distracting the enemy hunkered behind the pillbox.

The cement bunker was fortified with random stacks of wood and pieces of rock, making the approach difficult. 

Heart thudding in his chest, Buck leaned over some of the debris, reached up and fixed the pole charge to the concrete, then retreated. 

Diving to the ground, Buck covered his helmet and waited. 

It didn’t explode. 

_God damn it! No. This plan was going to work._

When the charge failed to go off, Buck crawled forward and flung a grenade right at the pole charge, then ran like hell. 

The force of the blast knocked him off his feet before he could even dive away.

* * *

It felt he’d drank an entire gallon of hooch. Buck’s head pounded and when he opened his eyes everything was spinning. He groaned. “What the hell?”

Gunfire erupted in the distance and people yelled in the background, but Buck found himself lying on his back and when the world came back to focus, he saw Eddie staring down at him.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

“Today’s date?”

“Who the hell knows? June something.” Buck tried to sit up, but Eddie pushed him right back down. 

It took a second to realize they were behind the main line of fighting on the outskirts of the city. Buck was lying on the ground with other wounded. 

Eddie was kneeling between Buck and another man. After taking Buck’s pulse, Eddie turned toward another GI on the ground, removing a bandage from the injured man’s chest and applying another. 

Buck got to his elbows and looked around. “Where’s…Nutz?”

“A few spots down. He probably has a broken femur. I’m not sure yet.”

Before Buck could ask about Kinard, he spotted him hurrying over to Eddie’s side. “I found some bandages but couldn’t find any more morphine.”

“Thank you, now go sit down,” Eddie ordered him.

Buck watched with surprise as Kinard sat out of the way without a word.

“Diaz!”

Another wounded soldier was brought over. Eddie cut open his shirt revealing profuse bleeding from his arm. Grabbing a knife from his bag, Eddie cut into the wound, then took a tiny pair of scissors and stuck them inside it.

Buck remained quiet, not wanting to distract Eddie, his own pulse pounding. 

“Kinard.”

Tommy scrambled over. 

“Hold this, don’t let go of the forceps,” Eddie instructed. 

Obeying, Kinard clamped down on the scissors while Eddie took a needle and thread and sewed inside the guy’s arm, stopping the bleeding. 

“Good job,” Eddie told him, then went back to check on the GI with the chest wound. 

Buck’s head started to spin again, but before he lay back down, he glanced over at Kinard who was also watching Eddie work. The two of them shared a look, one that spoke of respect for their teammate and gratefulness at still being alive.

* * *

“Why are you ignoring me?” Buck asked. It’d been two hours since Eddie worked on his last patient and he hadn’t said a word to him.

“I’m not ignoring you.”

“You sound pissed.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Eddie finished packing up his medical bag then sat on a on the ground across from where Buck was leaning against a tree. Jaw clenched, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you aware that you don’t wear a flak jacket with your uniform? That you’re not bullet proof?”

“I had to take out that weapon. I needed to keep you and everyone safe.” Buck sat up even straighter because no way was he going to be challenged on this. Not by Mr. _I Run Onto a Battlefield Without a Gun._ “And do I need to remind _you_ that red paint in the shape of a cross doesn’t make you invisible?”

“I was also trying to keep people safe.”

“By running in the middle of a firefight. Do you think bullets are scared of you?”

Eddie pointed at Buck’s chest. “Kettle.”

“What?”

“Would you both shut up?” Kinard walked over and looked down at Eddie. “You off duty?”

“Yeah, an hour ago.”

“Then stop working and drink this.” Kinard sat down and handed Eddie a bottle of beer then handed one to Buck. “Cheers,” he said before taking a gulp. 

“Hey, no alcohol,” Eddie admonished. “Both of you have concussions.”

“This is the best medicine, doc,” Kinard said.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’ll only make your headache worse.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Buck said, drinking his.

“Trust me, _it is.”_

Buck sighed dramatically and put the beer down. Eddie glared at Kinard who put his down on the ground with a grumble.

“Now what?” Buck asked.

“Neither of you have to go to the field hospital, so you’ll remain another day behind the line to rest and recover.”

Buck did not like the sound of that. “What about you?”

“Sleep four hours then return to the front with the rest of the platoon.”

“No. One of us should go with you.” Buck’s head didn’t hurt _that_ bad. “I’m fine.”

Eddie rested a warm hand on his shoulder. “The city fell a few hours ago. The focus is on prisoner transport. I’m going to help with any new wounded.”

“I don’t know,” Buck argued. 

“You’re not cleared for duty. That’s my call.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“I do outrank you.”

Kinard raised his eyebrows at that.

Buck scoffed. Being a corporal was such an odd rank in the army. “I can’t believe you just pulled that card.” 

Since Eddie didn’t answer him, Buck realized he’d done just that. 

Grabbing something out of his bag, Eddie handed Buck and Kinard a couple of tablets. “Take these before going to sleep. I’ll check both of you in the morning.”

“Any word on, Nutz?” Kinard asked. 

“He was transferred to the field hospital for x-rays. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Grabbing his gear, Eddie squeezed Buck’s shoulder before walking away, the gesture melting away some of Buck’s earlier annoyance. 

Tommy waited until Eddie was out of sight before he grabbed his beer again.

“Really?” Buck asked.

Kinard shrugged, holding up the bottle. “You showed moxie today, Buckley. So, did Diaz. We should drink to that.”

Buck looked around and grabbed his bottle again and held it up. “Wow. You really _are_ concussed.” 

“Like I told you before, I’m an asshole. But I admit it when I’m wrong.” Kinard clanked his bottle to Buck’s. “Here’s to surviving another day.”

Buck brought the bottle to his lips, but couldn’t bring himself to take another sip, surprising himself just a little when he placed it back onto the ground, Kinard rolling his eyes at him, not saying a word.

* * *

**Cherbourg**   
_June 25, 1944_

Eddie had spent most of his time during the battle of Cherbourg with his head down and eyes focused on the wounded. He hadn’t slept for more than four hours in the last three days and when he did manage to close his eyes, he bolted awake in a sweat. Thankfully, he’d been alone on a spot between the temporary med tents for anyone to notice.

4th Platoon was given one day’s rest after the liberation of the city. Eddie didn’t mind the moment’s reprieve. It gave Kinard and Buck an extra day to recover from their head injuries despite their best efforts to undo all of his hard work.

Eddie wanted to help distribute supplies from newest shipment to keep his mind busy during his off time. However, a _certain person_ thought it’d be fun to check out the city they’d just fought for instead. 

An hour into their walk, Eddie started regretting this little trek when it was suddenly too much effort to lift his feet. Almost tripping over a piece of rebar sticking out of the ground was just the icing on the cake. 

“Hey?” Buck grabbed him by the arm. “Are you okay?”

Eddie waited until he was steady before looking up with a wan smile. “Just feeling a little punch-drunk.”

“But you haven’t had any beer in days.”

For whatever reason that answer made Eddie laugh out loud. “Exactly.”

“Come on, walking is good for you.”

It amazed Eddie how enthusiastic Buck could be; he was like a lightning rod of energy and curiosity. It drew Eddie’s attention, made him smile and forget what tomorrow might bring. 

The city was still intact in places, but the port facilities were destroyed by the Germans. The Army Corp of Engineers was already at work at emergency repairs so that Allied ships could use the harbor. It was a bustling hub of people and activity. 

Buck stopped at what used to be an intersection and squinted at a giant wooden street sign that was leaning too far to the right. 

Eddie studied Buck’s eyes with concern. “Can you make out the words?”

“Do you mean, can I read the letters or pronounce them?” Buck asked with smirk. “I’m fine. No more double vision.”

But that was Eddie’s job to worry and take care of others. He started to lift his hand when Buck gently grabbed him by the wrist. “Please don’t ask me how many fingers you’re holding up. I said I’m good. Okay?”

“You were knocked unconscious by a giant explosion.”

“And now I’m better. Not only that, but I can finally eat,” Buck said with a ridiculous amount of excitement. 

“Good. Because you need to have something other than crackers.” 

“I’m sure my stomach doesn’t miss pork and lima beans.”

Eddie made a face. “True.” C-rations were the worst. 

“I’m hoping some of the lovely townsfolk might have fresh bread or maybe even biscuits to share,” Buck said, throwing an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. 

Buck’s giddiness at the idea of free baked goods was an endearing trait. Not to mention it seemed to delight him to maneuver Eddie around wherever they went. Given how much mental energy Eddie had after the last few days, he didn’t have a problem with Buck leading the way through the bombed-out streets.

* * *

There were no biscuits or sweet bread to be shared. In fact, Eddie pulled out all his C-rations and tried giving them to people who politely refused. 

With their city no longer under occupation, many civilians started coming out of their cellars and other hiding places. Most were dirty and frightened, wandering around. And despite living in extreme poverty, many wore their nicest clothes to greet the various GIs out surveying the damage.

“Merci,” many said to Buck and Eddie as they walked by.

A woman with a tattered dress stepped up and gave Eddie a flower. She pointed at his armband and blew him kisses. A man wearing worn beret handed Buck a cigarette. 

“I feel wrong accepting this,” Buck said, taking the smoke and putting it away.

“This is about dignity; I think refusing would be even ruder.”

Eddie regretted not stocking up his medical bag; he could hand out antibiotics, maybe even—

He heard a strange noise and looked over at a small boy standing in the corner of the street by a pile of garbage. Eddie walked over; searching for the kid’s parents, but no one seemed to notice the child.

“Hey,” he said, crouching. “Are you okay?” The boy didn’t answer. “What’s your name?”

The little boy stared at Eddie with a frown.

Eddie pointed to himself. “I’m Eddie.” Then he pointed at the boy. “What’s your name?”

“André.”

“André, where are your parents?” The child still seemed confused. “Mom and dad?”

The child shook his head.

“Does that mean he doesn’t understand, or he doesn’t know where they are?” Buck asked.

“Probably both.” 

Patting down his jacket pockets, Eddie found a package of crackers and handed it to André. The little boy tore open the package and started eating them way too fast. “Hey, it’s okay, you can slow down.”

It was obvious the child was hungry. He wasn’t gaunt, but his cloths were too big, and his eyes and skin were pale. Eddie gave him several sips from his canteen while Buck pulled out some beef jerky and gave it to the boy.

Eddie held out his hand. “Come on André.”

“Where are you going to take him?” Buck asked, following. “What if his parents are looking for him?”

“He was hanging around a garbage pile.” Eddie tightened his grip around the boy’s wrist. “I doubt they’re nearby.”

“Eddie.” Buck stood in front of him to block his way. “We can’t just snatch a child off the streets.”

“We’re not.” Eddie looked at Buck, hoping he conveyed his need to help with his eyes. “I’m just going to find someone who can translate for us so we can find his folks.”

Buck looked between the little boy and Eddie’s face, his own expression softening. “Okay,” he said in complete sincerity. “Then, we’ll do it together.”

* * *

After a few minutes, it was obvious that the boy’s short legs had a hard time navigating the broken, littered streets. So, Eddie picked him up and started carrying him while Buck stopped various strangers to see if anyone spoke English.

“Excuse me...?”

“Um, pardon me...?”

After a dozen or so people couldn’t help, Buck stepped up onto a large piece of cement and cupped his hands around his mouth like a bullhorn. “Does anyone speak English? Anyone?”

“Oui, I do.” A nun approached them. “Do you need help?” 

Eddie sighed in relief. “Yes, Sister….”

“Boicourt.”

“Thank you.” Eddie lowered the boy to the ground, ruffling his hair out of instinct. “We can’t find his parents.”

Sister Boicourt knelt and started talking to André. The two of them spoke back and forth, the little boy nodding then shaking his head to her questions. 

The nun made a sad sound and patted the boy’s head before standing. “His papa is dead. He and his mère live in the basement of a church. I can take him there.”

“May we come with you?” Eddie asked.

“Of course.”

* * *

The church was still standing. Eddie looked at it in awe.

“The Germans used all the buildings around St. Roch for housing to protect them from the bombings,” Sister Boicourt explained.

All the stained-glass windows looked blown out and only part of the roof remained, but it was old and strong.

André started squirming in Eddie’s hold and bent down to let the child down. A man with a cane waved at André then shouted at someone inside the church. 

A woman hobbled down the steps with her arms wide open, shouting her son’s name. 

Eddie watched as the little boy ran toward her. “Maman, maman!” Andre shouted, clinging to her legs.

Sister Boicourt followed behind them and went up to the mother and spoke to her, pointing at Eddie and Buck.

Keeping her son close, the mother limped toward them. Scars marred the left side of her face and down her neck, but they could not conceal her glee. She spoke rapidly, her breaths shallow and rapid in between tears. 

“She thanks you for finding him,” Sister Boicourt explained. “The bombings kept her awake for days, and when they ended, she fell asleep. By the time she woke up he was gone.”

“Tell her, we’re just glad they’re safe,” Buck said with a satisfied smile. 

“Do they have enough food? Water?” Eddie asked.

Sister Boicourt asked. The mother smiled as she continued wiping away tears and hugging her son. 

Sister Boicourt nodded and placed a hand on Eddie’s arm. “She said, don’t worry young man. The Lord has been watching over us since the German tanks rolled in. And he will continue to look after us now that they’re gone.”

The mom walked over and pulled Eddie into a hug. “Merci, merci.”

Letting go, she took her son’s hand and led him toward the church. As they walked away, André turned around and waved at Eddie with a grin.

The gap-tooth smile, the giggling, it all hit home. Eddie’s chest ached at missing the sound of Christopher’s laugh, the way he greeted Eddie with the most excited, _“Daddy!”_ The feel of his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

Eddie turned around, away from the church, away from Buck, his heart thudding so loudly it overwhelmed everything else. But he kept it in, the hurt, the pain, the overwhelming need to fall to his knees. He sucked in his breath, and held it, forcing everything deep inside until it was just a dull ache in his chest, his nose and throat stuffy and clogged.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and Eddie jerked away, turning with his fists raised, his breathing even more rapid. Buck took a step back with his own hands up in a non-threatening way. “It's okay, Eddie. It’s just me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to….” A tremor ran through his arm and into his fingers. Eddie balled up his fists and forced them at his sides. “Are _we_ good?”

“Of course,” Buck said. “In fact, we should head back and grab some chow before it’s all gone.”

“Yeah. You should eat something. You haven’t had anything substantial in a few days.”

“Yum. What do you think it'll be today? Chipped beef or stale pasta and sauce?”

Instead of touching him, Buck walked beside Eddie, yammering about biscuits and gravy and other random things until Eddie felt more like himself.

* * *

Dinner sat like a stone in his gut. Eddie lay on the ground, watching the stars begin to appear in the night sky. Most platoons found spots where the base was being built so it wouldn’t be such a long walk to chow and other needs. 4th Platoon found a nice little corner near a river to make it easy to bathe and boil water for coffee. Gone were the pup-tents, it was just the ground and their worn bed rolls.

Their squad was sprawled out enough to have separate conversations, a luxury they wouldn’t have the next time they went to the front. Wherever that might be next. 

He was about to drift off when something was waved in front of him. Eddie sat up and almost smacked into Buck’s goofy face.

“Thought you could use some cheering up.”

Eddie stared inside the sheet of brown paper. “You got me chocolate?”

“Well, you don’t seem to be as much of a beer guy and you sure didn’t want your candy rations traded for it. I thought, we’re in France.”

Eddie didn’t want to know what Buck had traded for this. “You didn’t have to.”

“I figured you were feeling pretty homesick.”

“Thank you.” Eddie released a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Grabbing a tree, Buck settled onto the ground across from him. “You miss your kid. That’s hard.”

“To be honest, I try not to think about him. And on most days, I don’t. When you’re dodging bullets and tending to the wounded, there’s no room for distractions. And after a while, _I don’t_ think about him. The war just becomes…normal.”

Eddie looked up at Buck trying to read his expression. “Guess that makes me a horrible father.”

“No. It makes you a good one. Doing what you have to survive and come back home to your son.” Buck contemplated Eddie for a moment, clearing his throat. “And his mom?”

“She died in childbirth.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We thought, you know, when she was pregnant, that it would fix things between us…that…we could work.” 

“You two never… _worked?”_

Eddie shrugged. “I wanted it to. I tried. But we just never…I _never_ ….” How could he explain that they never felt right together? Then after Shannon’s death Eddie felt more confused and guilty than ever. 

“Who’s looking after your son?”

“My parents.” The conversation was becoming way too morose and Eddie wasn’t comfortable shining such a large spotlight on himself, not when Buck went out of his way to do something nice. And given they were in the middle of a war the small gesture created such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

“Thank you.” Eddie broke off a piece and handed it to him. “Seriously.”

“You are very welcome.”

“What about you?” Buck gave him a quizzical expression. “Got someone waiting on you back home?”

“No.”

“No one?”

“I never felt like I fit in. My grandpa dug coal, and his father did, and my dad. But I didn’t have mining in my blood.” Buck’s voice got thick and he looked at the ground instead of at Eddie. “And it’s like they never forgave me for not following in their footsteps. I’d never felt so alone.”

Eddie’s heart ached in sympathy; he understood that feeling of isolation. His parents were never satisfied with his choices. He married Shannon in hopes of finding that missing piece in his life and instead, he felt even more isolated. It wasn’t fair to her, to Christopher. 

“When I was drafted, I felt a sense of relief. Can you believe that?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I actually do.”

Eddie nodded. He believed Buck and something deep inside felt at ease with finally admitting his guilt and fears out loud. 

Staring at his hand, he realized he was still holding onto his half of the chocolate. Holding it up, he and Buck took their pieces and tapped them together in a _cheers_ before sitting back in peaceful silence.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Carentan, France**  
_July 13, 1944_

Buck didn’t know much about Normandy. Basically, it was a dot on a map. Now after more than a month, he realized the scope of the area. It took up all northern France, 360-miles of coastline of farmland and towns. So many towns. 

And _every one of them_ had to be liberated. 

They were out again on patrol, trying to protect what had just been captured. Another stretch of rolling pastures right outside whatever the next target was. 

Whenever Buck felt himself sink into melancholy, he thought of Andre’ and his mother, the townspeople who were already cleaning up the streets of their city, helping reclaim what was taken. It reminded him why they were here. Buck tightened his hold of his rifle, careful that he didn’t spook any of the newest members of his platoon. 

Battles created casualties and the ranks had to be filled as result. Company G was a merry-go-round of green recruits who were there to fill-in for those injured or killed in action. 

The new guys had a tendency to duck at every foreign sound and were often confused by battlefield operation. 

“Private O’Malley, I said take up the left flank, not the right!” Buck yelled.

Thank God they were not actually engaging the enemy. 

During one roaming patrol, the sound of near-by machine gun fire made several new platoon members jump into a nearby trench.

Han stopped and waited for the gunfire in the distance to end before wandering over and peering down at them. “No matter how much noise an automatic weapon makes, it’s not going to be a mortar round. You’ll get to know the difference soon enough.”

Hopefully, all these patrols would allow their newest teammates time to assimilate the knowledge from the rest of them before they were all thrown into the fire. 

As Buck walked back, he overheard two new privates discuss the landings at Omaha Beach like they were reciting ghost stories over a campfire. Buck glared at them as he passed by. “Unless you enjoy seeing your friends die in countless, horrible ways, maybe you should practice your weapon drills instead of starting a sewing circle.”

“Yes, sir,” both kids said, hurrying away. 

God, when had he turned into a cranky old man?

* * *

While everyone grumbled about the newbies, replacements meant new supplies. Supposedly. 

“I heard we got all new C-rations, but they were all mistakenly filled packets of peanut butter,” Kinard mentioned as they walked back from the latest patrol.

“Why am I not surprised,” Buck grumbled.

“At least they didn’t ship empty boxes,” Eddie said. “All my suture kits are useless.”

As they headed back, Buck stared as he spotted someone perched up a tree with one arm dangling while the other was holding a cigarette. “Wow, what a sorry looking bunch, huh? Guess it’s a good thing I brought brandy.”

Buck’s eyes lit up when he saw Nutz’s lanky form. “You old dog!”

Nutz jumped down and held out his arms. “Who missed me?”

Kinard didn’t waste time dropping his rucksack and grabbing his friend and pulling him into an embrace. 

Ecstatic, Buck joined in, his chest filling with delight, he and Tommy soaking in a rare moment of glee. 

After a moment Nutz pulled away, still grinning, his freckles even more noticeable from being clean shaved. “Hey. Where’s Diaz, hiding? Come over here.”

Smiling, Eddie came over and joined in. It became a group hug. “Thanks for coming after me, doc,” Nutz whispered even though everyone heard. 

Eddie’s answer was muffled, but Buck was sure it was something stoic and humble. Once everyone clapped each other on the back, Eddie zeroed in on Nutz, eyes training over him. “How’s the leg?”

“Not broken anymore.”

“Did they use –”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough; you two can compare x-rays or something later.” Buck rubbed his hands together with zeal. “Did you say something about brandy?”

* * *

Everyday fighting had become intense, grim, and unspeakably violent, with daily advances often limited to only a few yards. And it must have been all the start stop, start stop, not going anywhere that jerked the chains of the generals. 

It was never good news when they were called in for a giant briefing. 

Major Vincent Gerrard had returned to his maps and metal pointer as he spoke. “In an attempt to break German resistance around the city of Caen, General Montgomery of the British forces has ordered 457 Halifax and Lancaster bombers to carpet bomb the area.” 

There was a collective growl and mutter among the men, but Gerard ignored them. “Once the bombs have dropped, the U.S. 2nd and 3rd Armored Divisions will punch a hole through the German defenders and finally break out of the peninsula.”

Buck hung his head low. He patted Eddie’s arm and nodded at Kinard and Nutz so they could all head to the supply tent and get more gum.

Kinard handed Nutz a smoke. “You got better just in time for all the fun.” 

Nutz shrugged. “It's better than going through those damn hedgerows.”

Eddie opened his mouth to correct him, but Buck silenced him with a look. “Don’t you dare say it.”

* * *

**On the Frontline  
St. Lo, France**  
_July 26, 1944_

Buck risked a look at Han while they huddled on their hands and knees in freshly dug trenches as bombing the likes Buck had never experienced rattled through his bones. 

“This is worse than Cherbourg!” Kinard yelled. 

Thousands of troops were huddled behind a smoke line that separated the enemy from allied positions. From the air, the heavy, grey smoke was a clear signal for where Allied bombers could drop their payload. 

That was until the wind changed direction.

Buck risked a glance up at the sky and realized in horror that some of the bomber aircraft were approaching their targets from the wrong direction — attacking perpendicular to the road instead of parallel — dropping their bombs enmass. 

“Don’t they know we’re here?” Nutz yelled.

As five minutes became ten, then twenty, Buck would have given every penny, every desire, and every hope he’d ever had to have been just another 800 yards further back. 

The smoke line started drifting back over their position.

For over an hour the bombs came down, most of them passing only a few yards away. God, how Buck wished they were back inside that château at least it had acted like some type of barrier. 

“Dig in, dig in!” Han yelled.

How were they supposed to dig deeper into the ground?

The bombs continued.

And in that moment between explosions, screaming, and waiting to die, Buck’s mind flashed to random moments right before he left home. 

_“You’re enlisting?” Maddie smiled. “Oh, Buck, I’m so proud of you.”_

_“Killing another person will change you forever, son.” His father sipped on his whiskey. “I hope you’re prepared for that.”_

_His mother looked at him, wiping away tears. “Is that what you’d rather do? Pick up a gun instead of a shovel? And what happens when you come back home?”_

Shaking, Buck dug his face into the dirt and tried to make his body small as hell rained down all around him.

* * *

It felt like his head wasn’t attached to his body. Buck looked around in a daze. He touched his face, licked cracked lips, and stared blankly. Everyone and everything moved in slow motion. 

“My front line looks like the face of the moon,” Han yelled into his radio. “You dropped your bombs on the wrong side!”

Han threw the radio onto the ground and marched toward Eddie who was crouched beside a soldier curled-up in a ball.

“How is he?” When Eddie didn’t respond, Han got frustrated and shook his shoulder. “I said, how is he?”

Eddie squinted up at him. “Shell shock!” 

Han’s brow furrowed. “How are _you?”_

“I can’t hear anything out of my left ear,” Eddie shouted. 

Buck’s legs started working, his brain along with it. He watched Eddie stagger to his feet and fix his lopsided helmet. Eddie spotted Buck and started walking toward him, but Buck waved him off. 

Buck could see it in Eddie’s eyes, his desire to check on him, even though he was surrounded by those in worse shape. 

And for a moment, Buck wondered what it was like to be completely focused on helping people instead of shooting at them? At providing a comforting touch? 

“Buckley, I need you over here!” Han yelled. 

Buck pushed away such thoughts and followed Han to aid the rest of their rattled squad. 

By the end of the morning, 4th Platoon had suffered six concussions, three cases of traumatic shock and one death. 

And they hadn’t even engaged the enemy.

* * *

**Reffuveille, France**  
_August 6, 1944_

Fatigue was starting wear on Buck—on all of them. The carpet bombing shocked and rendered the enemy useless, but it also impacted the rest of them. 

At one point, Nutz threw a grenade and it glanced off the helmet of the German squatting in a foxhole. If Han hadn’t snagged it and thrown it back, six members of their squad might have been killed.

All Buck wanted to do was to take a shower and wash his clothes, but they had advanced too far from the last base and were stuck in the middle of nowhere. 

Sick of the sight and stench of battle, Buck found himself sitting on a log, staring out at the woods. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, he found Eddie standing beside him.

“I’m sorry. I called out your name a few times.”

“Yeah, I’m just…half-deaf from all the noise.”

Eddie sat heavily beside him on the log. His uniform shirt was streaked with dirt, he needed to shave, but his eyes still studied him. “Are your ears ringing?”

“Not anymore. It just feels like…like the world won’t stop exploding. I mean, the bombing stopped two days ago, but it still sounds like it’s still happening.” Buck stared out at the woods in frustration. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Eddie looked at Buck with such empathy. “You don’t have to. Blast force is a real thing.” He took Buck’s wrist, placing a finger on his pulse point. It made all the hair along Buck’s arms stand up. “Are you still lightheaded?”

“No.”

“Headache?”

“A little.” Guilt settled inside his chest. Eddie was on a break. “I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You’ve got people with more serious injuries to look after.”

“Not really.” 

Eddie finished taking his pulse, but he didn’t move away. He lingered, his finger resting at Buck’s wrist, soft and warm until he finally let go. 

They were so close that Buck could read Eddie’s dog tags without trying. He swallowed. 

“I’ll be fine. What about you?” Buck would sometimes lose sight of Eddie during battles; it was the nature of their jobs. But they always checked in with each other when they could. 

“Hearing returned to my ear yesterday. _Sleep_ …,” Eddie shrugged. “Not so much.”

“You, too?”

“Everyone needs a break. I talked to Captain Nash who talked to the Major, who consulted one of the head docs at the field hospital. And they agreed it was time we rotated out for a bit.”

“How? I thought they canceled rotation until we pushed through all the defenses?” 

“I might have gotten word to the other platoon medics and we might have bugged the hell out of everyone. Said something about needing to improve morale and combat effectiveness,” Eddie rattled off like it was no big deal. “Besides, everyone is still peeved at General Montgomery so the Brits are providing more units.”

Buck grinned impressed as hell. “You guilted them into giving us leave and they used it to get back at old Monty, huh?” He couldn’t believe it. “Do we have to move out?”

“Tomorrow. There’s an actual rest camp set up behind the reserve line. We’ll catch a truck there in the morning.” Eddie’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “But right now, I have something to show you.” 

Intrigued by Eddie’s sudden cheerfulness, Buck followed him deeper into the woods.

* * *

Buck stared at the river flowing through an opening in trees. Although the water was an olive color from the swirling mud and algae, he could see a few fish in the shallows. Vegetation and rotting trees crept into the river's edge, creating slimy pools of debris from withered leaves, and twigs. Above the water, high branches wove a tunnel of green leaves to protect from strong sunlight.

His breath caught in his throat. “It’s beautiful.”

Eddie stood beside him, his gaze fixed on Buck. “Now close your eyes.”

“What?” Buck asked.

“Close them.”

Buck released a heavy breath, closing them. He started swaying on his feet from residual dizziness, but Eddie was beside him, touching both Buck’s shoulders, grounding him. 

“Now listen,” Eddie told him.

“To what?”

Eddie stepped back, his voice quiet, soothing. “Everything around you. The dripping water over the leaves, the chirping insects, the sound of branches creaking. Just keep listening, separate each sound, and focus on one then the other.”

Buck got lost, listening to the sounds of creatures he couldn’t see, the cawing of a bird, the wind rustling. His breath slowed, the pounding in his temples decreased to manageable levels. His shoulders relaxed, he even noticed the scent of a recent rain, of antiseptic and sweat from Eddie’s clothes. 

“The next time things seem overwhelming, think back to this place, to these sounds.”

Buck swallowed. “How did you…? I mean, that was really cool.”

“When I was laid up in Tunisia, one of the local doctors helped me get through some of the worst nights by doing this.”

Buck opened his eyes. He wanted to ask Eddie about Tunisia, but he didn’t, not when Eddie had freely shared a piece of it on his own. 

Heart heavy, Buck spoke before thinking. “You know, I keep wondering…what the hell am I going to do when this all over?”

_“Do?”_

“I’ve been in the army for the last four years. And all I know is how to kill people.”

“You can’t think of it like that. You protect your team; you fight because you must. We didn’t ask Hitler to invade Europe. The people in these cities didn’t want their homes destroyed and their children left to starve in the streets.” Eddie faced Buck, hair plastered against his head, chest rising and falling rapidly. “There’s more to you than shooting a gun. You have good instincts, you can read a combat zone, you look out for your guys.”

“But you _help them._ You...you keep them from bleeding out. Keep them alive,” Buck said angry with himself. “Hold their hands and offer them comfort. What you do _means something.”_

“And how could I do that without you?” Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Who puts themselves between me and a bullet? Shoots those evil enough to fire on the wounded and injured? That’s you and Nutz and Kinard. You guys are the ones who are going to end this war, so I don’t have to care for the wounded, and hold their hands while they take their final breath.”

Buck stared dumbfounded at Eddie. “Guess that’s…um, another way of looking at it.”

“You mean the _right_ way.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Buck said with a snort. 

A long silence lingered between them before Eddie broke it with a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “You’re exhausted. You need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“I checked out the river earlier. Nothing seemed hazardous.” Eddie removed his cartridge belt and first aid pouch. “I don’t know about you, but I really need go for a swim.”

Buck sat down on a lump of twisted roots and started removing his boots and socks while Eddie stripped out of his shirt and trousers.

Sliding down his suspenders, Buck’s gaze kept drifting toward Eddie, watching him as he entered the river, his heart pounding at the sight of him. He bit his bottom lip.

Diving under the water, Eddie broke through the surface a few seconds later, letting out a shout of joy. Shaking his head, he sprayed water everywhere making Buck laugh. And Buck sat there, enjoying the moment, not venturing any further, just staring at Eddie. 

Wiping water away from his face, Eddie looked over at him with the most serious expression. “You need to enter the water if you want to swim, Buck.”

Buck froze, his mind going way too fast to understand, he blinked, overthinking, and the moment was broken. 

“Oh my god, it’s a damn river!” Nutz yelled. “You two have been holding out on the rest of us.”

Eddie smiled at Buck then went under again. Ignoring the excited whooping from his other friends, Buck finished removing his clothes and jumped in.

* * *

**Reffuveille, France  
Rest Camp Outside the Line**  
_August 12, 1944_

“I want more pie,” Buck mumbled. His belly was happy and full, and the sun was shining onto his face where he lay in the grass. 

“I don’t think there is any more,” Eddie said from a spot next to him.

Someone had found a berry patch and Nutz, being the bootlegger that he was, traded around for enough flour and butter to make fruit pies. Who knew one could build an oven out of broken logs, a hole in the ground, and rocks?

Five days of R&R had been heaven. No manual labor or c-rations. They’d been able to eat real food from the mess tent, slept on bedrolls, and even got a chance to play a game of football. The entire platoon even had fresh clothes from the laundry tent.

Buck fiddled with a flower between his fingers as he watched puffy clouds float above in the sky. 

Crunching of soil indicated another person and Buck looked over at Han who stood above. “Diaz, Buckley, the captain wants to see you.”

Buck shared a look with Eddie who looked just as perplexed. Rising, Buck waited on Eddie, and the two of them followed Han.

* * *

The rest camp was a decent size; there were even a few tents for command and office space. A short line of men snaked out of the temporary office of Major Vincent Gerrard. One GI entered and another exited out the other flap.

After fifteen minutes, it was Buck and Eddie’s turn to walk inside. The major was standing in front of his desk while Captain Nash stood on the left side. Bobby gave them a brief, but warm smile. 

Buck and Eddie stood at attention and waited.

Han stood behind everyone as Major Gerrard flipped through a file in his hand then looked up at Buck. “Specialist Evan Buckley, it is my honor to award you the battlefield commission of Corporal for courageous service during wartime.”

Buck grinned in surprise. With his previous disciplinary marks in his file, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get promoted again. “Sir, thank you, sir.” 

Buck saluted then turned toward Bobby who handed him the badge and stripe to sew onto his uniform. The captain held his head in obvious pride. “Congratulations, Buck.”

Buck could barely stand still from excitement. “Thank you, sir.”

Beaming, Buck turned toward Eddie so he could point at the stripe and emphasize that the other man couldn’t pull rank on him when Major Gerrand started reading the same speech to his friend. 

“Corporal Edmundo Diaz, it is my honor to award you the battlefield commission of Sergeant for courageous service during wartime.” Gerrand looked up from his file. “Diaz, huh? I wasn’t aware your country was fighting in this war.”

Eddie held himself ramrod straight. “Do you mean the United States of America, sir?”

Buck felt his cheeks burn hot, but Bobby sent him a death glare.

Gerrand snorted. “Carry on, Sergeant.”

Eddie saluted and walked in front of Captain Nash who gave him his new rank and held out his hand. Eddie shook it with vigor as Nash congratulated him properly. “Great work, Sergeant Diaz.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Buck waited until they were outside the tent before starting a diatribe when Eddie wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s get a beer and celebrate.”

Buck wanted to rant about what happened but obviously Eddie didn’t. So, Buck went along with him. “A beer? You?”

“I drink, Buck. Just not as much as you,” Eddie said with a smirk.

“All right meatball, for that, we’re going to drink _a lot.”_

“You better include me in that,” Han said, running after them.

Buck pointed at Han. “Do you still have a source for the good stuff?”

“You mean that paint thinner?” Eddie snorted.

Han folded his arms over his chest in a pout. “Hey, that paint thinner comes from the finest…paint.”

Laughing, Buck corralled them toward their camp so they could celebrate with the others.

* * *

They sat around their camp for hours. Nutz and Kinard were a few feet away, laughing at something Han said. Eddie leaned against a tree, sipping his beer quietly. Buck had taken a moment to collect his thoughts and write to his sister.

Scuttlebutt came down while they were settling down. They were returning to the front in the morning. Buck wasn’t even sure where.

This time though, he felt more encouraged then he did a few days ago. He finished his letter to Maddie with: _You’d be proud of me, sis. I found a great team. And I’d do anything for them. I miss you. I wish you could meet my brothers. I wish you could meet Eddie. Maybe one day you will._

Buck stared out at the night sky, a bit more drunk than sober, amazed at the number of stars above. 

Eddie moved to sit across from him with his beer. He looked up at the sky then back at Buck. “What do you think it all means?”

Buck put the letter in his trousers pocket. He cleared his throat. “That things are more complex than we understand.” Eddie made a _hmmm_ sound under his breath. Buck raised an eyebrow at Eddie’s response. “You disagree?”

“I think we make things more complicated then we need to.”

Buck’s cheeks grew warm. “Sometimes it takes time to figure things out.” He blew out a heavy breath, contemplating his drink, when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running footsteps.

A private skidded to a stop beside them out of breath. “Holy mackerel. Did you hear?” 

“Hear what?” Han asked. 

“Paris. It’s been liberated,” the private said. 

Buck’s jaw dropped. After four years of occupation France was free. It didn’t mean the end of the war, but they were closer more than ever.

“What does that mean?” Nutz asked.

“It means things just got a hell of a lot harder,” Eddie said, taking a long drink. 

Buck sat on the ground, his buzz sobering with reality.

If Paris was liberated, how long before they pushed forward into Germany? And how long before the only thing in the way of going home was the rest of the Nazi army?

* * *

* * *

Halfway point!!!! I hope you're enjoying the ride :)


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**Five miles outside Metz, France**  
_September 20, 1944_

Despite liberating Paris over three weeks ago, they were still in France, somewhere in the northeastern most section. Within striking distance of Luxembourg, someone said. Eddie had never heard of it before. 

Things felt different. After crossing 400 miles in a month, they were bogged down with the constant mud and rain. 

They’d taken and lost the same hill three times. Eddie was sure he recognized the tree with the broken branches he was standing under. 

Buck stared at the map Han held up. “I don’t understand it, Sir? Why are we doing this? Why don’t we just take the whole army and attack the city and get it over with?”

“Fuel shortage,” Han said. “Everything’s been routed toward the Netherlands to help the Brits.”

Kinard rolled his eyes. 

Fuel wasn’t the only commodity in short supply. They also lacked Howitzer ammunition, rain gear, blankets, and sufficient rations. Morale had drastically dipped as a result, but they continued with skirmishes outside the city––regardless of the dismal supply situation. 

“I don’t know why everyone is so jazzed about attacking now. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to blitz that thing.”

“No one asked you, Jay,” Kinard said, tying his boot. “You’re back with us two whole days and you’re already complaining.”

Eddie agreed with Jachimowicz. For weeks they’d been waiting to attack Metz. Eddie wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the idea of attacking the city scared the hell out of him. He’d overheard Han and Captain Nash discussing plans enough to know that when they did attack, it would be a long, horrible battle. 

Eddie washed his hands with water from his canteen so he could keep his fingers free from dirt and mud. But there wasn’t enough water to get under the nails and he tossed the canteen to the ground in frustration.

“Hey,” Buck said, standing beside him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m just thinking I’d like to be alive to see my son again.”

Buck’s face crumpled. “Don’t say that.”

Eddie turned around, away from Buck, and started pacing, frustration and thoughts of defeat weighing him down since leaving Paris. “Captain Nash said the damn city is a bunch of fortresses that go for six miles. It’s from the Middle Ages; _it’s built to keep invaders out.”_

“It’s the most heavily fortified city in Europe,” Nutz said, walking by. 

Eddie gestured at Nutz for emphasis. Buck glared at their teammate before taking Eddie to the side and away from everyone else. “We’ve been through hell before. We’ll do it again. Omaha Beach, the hedgerows, the damn carpet bombing. We’ve always had each other’s back and we’ll have it again. You’ll see Christopher, Eddie. I promise.”

“Don’t say that Buck.” Eddie’s chest heaved as his frayed nerves began to unravel. He swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat, because _sometimes,_ he forgot what Christopher looked like and he’d dig out his picture in a panic and stare at, trying to memorize every detail. “Don’t make promise you can’t keep.”

“I don’t. I always keep my word.” Buck grabbed Eddie’s wrists and squeezed them. “Now come on, you need to rest. When’s the last time you slept?”

Eddie honestly didn’t even know, but he followed Buck to wherever he was leading him without hesitation.

* * *

**Moselle River South of Metz, France**  
_October 8, 1944_

To attack Metz meant taking out all forty-three forts. One at a time. And when the sun went down, the fighting didn’t stop. 

His instruments were crude. Eddie tied scissors to one of his wrists with a shoestring in order to have them handy to cut away bloody clothing. He carried extra compresses in his gas mask container. His raincoat had multiple patches cut out of the tail because he had learned to slap a piece of raincoat on a sucking chest wound, then cover it with a compress.

“Medic!”

Eddie ran toward the yell, his knees sinking in mud. As he worked, shell fragments whittled down the trees around him. He examined a wounded corporal at night, cutting away clothes in the darkness, feeling for the wound. It was like putting his hand in a bucket of wet liver.

Eddie injected a vial of morphine into his patient then cleaned the wound the best he could.

“Am…am I going to die?” the corporal asked.

“No, you’re not.” 

“There’s a letter…in my l-left pocket…could you--”

“Send it yourself, Corporal. Do you understand?”

Eddie waited until the morphine took effect before sprinkling sulfa and packing the wound with bandages. Looking around, Eddie searched for the quickest route toward the rear, but he couldn’t see a damn thing. 

“Moving!” he yelled.

He kept yelling to inform the platoon where he as they exchanged fire with the unseen enemy.

“Medic moving, cover him!” someone yelled. 

Eddie kept moving, hauling the wounded corporal until he finally reached the rear and the waiting hands of those who would transport the injured to the hospital.

Breathless, he looked over at the thumbs up of the other medic, letting him know that the injured soldier was still alive. Panting, Eddie rested his hands on his knees until he heard another shout. 

“Diaz! Over here!”

Then he ran back out toward the sounds of more screaming.

* * *

**Door to door fighting  
Metz, France**  
_October 20, 1944_

The enemy fortified the town’s buildings using sandbags and barbed wire. The ensuing house-to-house fighting was a slog-fest. Eddie spent most of his time triaging and tagging casualties to be taken away. 

At one point, part of his squad was hunkered down behind an old post office as they argued over the best way to breech the building across the street. The Germans transformed the city hall into a miniature fortress impervious to light anti-tank weapons.

“Why don’t we use a battering ram or something?” Nutz asked.

Kinard finished his cigarette and smashed it on the ground by his boot. “Yeah, that’s called a tank.”

A few days later, 5th Platoon brought forward a 150mm Howitzer to pound enemy forces inside the building.

The fighting surged back and forth around city hall for an entire week. When Eddie’s Company finally fought their way into the building, they were driven off by enemy troops armed with flamethrowers. 

Eddie bent over Nutz and treated the burn to his arm. 

Buck sat slumped against a bombed-out building, sweat pouring down his face. 

Han got off the radio and briefed them. “Okay, we’ve been ordered to clear the rest of the town.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Buck said, huffing for breath. “Let’s not go into the building with flame throwers.”

While they went toward the rest of the town, they could hear city hall get pulverized by 240mm Howitzers fired from outside the city.

* * *

**Metz, France**  
_November 5, 1944_

Although the fuel situation was remedied before the Metz offensive began, the ammunition shortage was never resolved. Neither were most of their other supplies. 8th Platoon was willing to give them extra morphine in exchange for portable stoves. 

When Eddie made the argument that they really needed the meds, most of the squad volunteered to escort him there. Eddie’s heart filled with overwhelming pride. 

Han lead the three klick trek to make the exchange. They walked alongside the road, fully aware of a Panzer tank roadblock outside the town of Argentan. 

A truck appeared from the German direction at the road ahead, its headlights coming straight toward them. Eddie hunkered down behind Buck and Kinard as they took cover in a ditch. It took a moment before they realized the truck was actually a crude ambulance. 

“Keep the vehicle in your sights, but hold you fire,” Han ordered.

“Sir?” Jay asked, hesitating. 

Brakes squeaking, the ambulance came to a sudden halt. 

“I think they just realized they went the wrong way,” Buck said. Keeping his weapon trained on the vehicle, he nodded at Han. “What now?”

“Let me,” Eddie said, volunteering. He climbed out of the ditch. 

“Diaz,” Han hissed. “Damn it.”

Everyone moved onto the road, spreading out.

Buck followed in step behind Eddie, his rifle at ready. 

The ambulance idled in the middle of the road. Eddie walked until he stood in front of it, his hands out and in the open. 

The driver was obviously lost; his face was completely white. He held up his hands and started speaking rapidly in German. 

The ambulance was more like flatbed truck with a giant Red Cross painted on the hood and doors. The driver continued talking, petrified, as Eddie neared the door.

“He could have a weapon,” Kinard yelled.

Eddie kept moving, walking slowly toward the rear of the vehicle, peering at the wounded lying in the back. He started getting closer until he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“I know you want to help them, but you can’t,” Buck said. “Let their medic do their job and we’ll do ours.”

“I could just take a look….”

Buck grabbed his bicep. “You can’t save everyone, Eds.”

Eddie froze, torn between instinct and reality. Buck squeezed his arm even tighter, not in a painful way, but with a slight tug. 

Eddie walked back toward the terrified driver and pointed at the cross on his own helmet and the driver visibly relaxed. “Go on, get out of here,” he said, waving him away. 

The ambulance turned around and took off. 

Jay walked toward Eddie in confusion, looking between him and Han. “Shouldn’t we have taken him prisoner?”

“He has wounded he’s responsible for,” Han said.

“They’ve shot at our wounded.” Kinard nodded at Eddie. “You of all people should know that.”

“And we’ve shot at theirs.” Eddie pointed his finger at Jay and Kinard. “And don’t pretend that you haven’t seen it happen.”

Walking back toward the ditch, Eddie grabbed his pack with the portable stoves. “Come on, we still have an exchange to make.”

* * *

An hour or so later, as they were walking back with a new supply of morphine when another Red Cross truck came down the road from the German side.

It slowed and stopped at the side of the road. The squad raised its weapons. Buck stepped in front of Eddie this time. 

The driver got out and set down a crate on the street and drove away. 

“It could be a bomb,” Kinard warned. 

Eddie walked over and opened the top. It was filled with Juno cigarettes.

Wiping his hands together, Nutz peered down at the box like a kid at Christmas. “Do you know what I’ll be able to trade for these?” he said with glee.

* * *

**Moselle River 23 miles north of Metz**  
_November 6, 1944_

The main mode of transportation in war was by foot. They walked and walked with little time for sleep. In fact, as time went on, sleep became almost as important as food. Fatigue cut down on reflexes which led to more casualties.

Both the allies and the Germans knew this and tried to stop the other side from sleeping by firing canons during the night. It created a chronic health crisis with little resources to treat. 

Eddie went around and pulled guys away from the front and would take them to a trench or under a tree, anywhere away from being constantly on alert. “Come on, Bartlett. Take an hour. Get some rest.”

“Sir, you need to be able to focus, just close your eyes for an hour. Buck has this.” Han waved him away and went back to his binoculars. More often than not, he would resort to guilt when it came to superiors. “Howie, the guys need you sharp. You can’t lead them through this is you’re too tired to think.”

To add to an already overwhelming environment, the weather continued to deteriorate, alternating between cold rain and light snow. And mud. Everywhere they went, they sunk in mud. Tanks, jeeps, GIs sinking to their knees. 

It only added to the exhaustion.

* * *

Eddie sat in front of the fire, trying to warm up. His fingers were reddish pink and his nose was cold. His back hurt and his bones felt like they belonged to an old man. They still wore shirts and light jackets meant for summer weather; it was definably winter in the woods of Metz, and layering wasn’t enough. The supply situation was beyond infuriating. 

They slept on the ground all the time. Hygiene had also started to become a problem. Since they were constantly on the go, there were no temporary bases to take showers and treks to near-by rivers took time to reach. Eddie helped write up a bathing schedule to streams and time to recover for the extra travel time. 

If platoon members picked up lice from a visit to a German dugout, Eddie and Han would place a barrel above a camp fire, pour a bucket of water into it, lay about five logs across the rim of the barrel, and drape all their uniforms and underwear across the logs. The steam processing lasted for over an hour and it would take care of the infestation.

Buck plopped down beside him and wrapped his arms around himself. “It’d sure be nice if we got winter gear.”

Eddie eyed his bare head. “Where’s your hat?”

“Jay lost his.”

Of course Buck gave the kid his. It was exactly the kind of thing he did for others. 

“You need to keep your head covered.” Eddie started digging through his rucksack and pulled out a spare beanie.

“Eddie.”

“I keep more than one for emergencies.”

“Eds.” Buck took Eddie’s hands into his, stilling them. “So, do I. It’s all good.”

Warmth seeped from Buck’s fingers into Eddie’s. It felt nice. _Soothing._ And the way Buck smiled at him... It made something deep inside Eddie ache. 

The ground crunched as people walked by. Eddie took a long, steady breath and pulled away, stuffing the hat back into his rucksack. “You’re going to have to ensure the guys keep moving around to keep hypothermia at bay.”

“I’ve got them doubling up on shirts already.”

“Make sure everyone’s socks are clean and without holes, that’s the most important,” Eddie said, rubbing at his burning eyes. 

“Gotcha.” 

Buck looked at Eddie with that same type of worry and concern he’d been unable to hide the last few weeks. Had Eddie been melancholy for that long? He hated that look, the sympathy. “Where we heading next?”

Buck blew out a breath. “Königsmacker.”

Eddie stared at him. “Bless you?”

“Us and the 378th have to go through the woods, then up a large hill to reach the east bank of the Moselle. There’s some fort known as Königsmacker overlooking the river.”

“Sounds ominous.” And grueling. 

“Supposedly, there’s a 300-strong garrison quartered in these underground bunkers. It also has four 100mm guns inside steel turrets. The turrets and observation posts are the only features visible above ground.”

The Middle Ages sounded like such a horrible time. The wind whipped up and Eddie wrapped his arms around himself, suppressing a shiver. “Let me guess, we have to clear everyone from the underground bunkers?”

“They should promote you to General Diaz.”

Eddie snorted. 

Buck patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll boil us some water for tea.”

Before Eddie could object, Buck went in search of a kettle, and despite his miserable mood, Eddie was unable to conceal his grin at Buck’s kindness, his warmth, even as a light snow starting to fall.

* * *

**Fort Königsmacker  
Metz, France**  
_November 9, 1944_

The division’s ultimate objective was to push 16 miles through enemy-infested territory so they could cross the Malling River. Several platoons had to carry all the boats needed to take the crossing and had departed an hour earlier. 

Their unit was nearing the area to launch, a large stretch surrounded by woods. Scouts had given the _all clear_ twenty minutes ago, to keep moving as they were trudged through snow. The wind kept spitting in Eddie’s face, and he kept wiping icy sleet out of his eyes.

Eddie’s legs were shaking from the non-stop trek; his chest ached from the sharp bite in the air.

Taking the deepest breath as he could, Eddie froze when he heard the distinct sound of a launching mortar.

“Incoming!”

Eddie dove to the ground, Buck landing beside him. The air filled with explosions. They were caught flat-footed, most of the company had already reached riverbank. There were just two platoons remaining, including theirs, with ten klicks left to go. 

The fighting went on for twenty minutes, the darkness making it difficult to see. Every once in a while, the Germans would use tracing fire which would light up the ground enough for them to pick off those who hadn’t found decent cover.

Eddie heard screaming from the rear.

“Medic!”

Three guys from the remaining 6th Platoon ran toward their buddies and the Germans focused their fire at them, striking at least one of them, forcing them to retreat. The injured still remained.

They screamed again for help.

Buck locked eyes with Eddie. He didn’t want him to go, but knew it was his job. Eddie nodded at him. 

“Medic moving!” Eddie yelled.

Enemy bullets plowed up the snow around him until he reached the wounded men. The German fire slackened once they spotted him, and Eddie was able to tend to them. Within seconds Eddie knew their wounds were fatal, the snow under them a crimson red. 

But like many times before, he administered morphine, held one of their hands and spoke quietly and calmly until they were both gone. 

Turning, Eddie grabbed the wrists of the first GI as he readied to drag him back across the snow-covered battlefield when the ground started to shake. 

Dropping to his hands and knees, his heart thumped inside his chest at the sight of two panzer tanks appearing, cutting him off his escape.

The panzers rolled across the snow, followed by a third. They stared firing at the remaining platoons trying to reach the river.

Another firefight erupted and, based on the sounds, the German infantry had started moving, using the tanks for cover.

Eddie froze, unsure where to run; the tanks blocked his route ahead and the enemy was coming up behind him.

When he heard the sounds of an American M1 Bazooka, he knew he could become a victim of friendly fire. 

“Eddie!”

He turned toward the sound of his name and spotted Buck off to the side behind a fallen log, waving him over. 

Running toward him, Eddie only drew random fire, and reached Buck after quick a sprint. Out of breath, he could only mutter, “How?” 

“I circled the long way around,” Buck said, grabbing him by the arm and started lugging him along.

Branches smacked him in the face and he almost tripped over a root, but Eddie kept up with Buck as they double-timed it back to their platoon, taking the very long-way around to avoid the enemy.

This time Buck tripped over something, causing Eddie to crash into him, both taking a tumble down a small hill. 

Eddie landed in a sprawl next to Buck. They both scrambled to their feet. Buck searched and found his rifle then looked over at Eddie. “You lost your helmet.”

“So did you.”

Just as Eddie was about search for it, he heard a muffled curse behind him. He spun around to find three German soldiers walking down the path they’d fallen onto. 

All three raised their rifles.

“Move!” Buck yelled, shoving Eddie out of the way.

Buck shot the soldier closest to them.

The other two Germans scattered, one moving left, the other going right. There was no way Buck could shoot in two different directions. 

Buck swung his weapon at the German on the right. The soldier on the left took aim.

“Buck!” Eddie screamed, drawing his side arm.

The soldier about to shoot Buck pivoted, turning toward Eddie, and opened fire.

Something struck him, spinning Eddie’s body around as he landed in a heap. He laid on his back, stunned, a burning sensation going up his side.

“Eddie? Eddie!”

“Buck?” 

His heart was racing in his ears; his chest felt tight. He was taking rapid, short breaths. _You’re going into shock._

“Eddie?” Buck peered down over his face, his hands ghosting over his jacket. “Where are you hit?”

But Eddie was still searching for the other soldiers. “What about...where are—”

“I got the one that got you, the other guy ran off.” Biting his lip, Buck shook his head. “Okay, we have to get you out of here; we need to get somewhere more hidden.” Buck’s voice sounded calmer than he looked. “Can you walk?”

Buck didn’t wait for his answer as he tried helping Eddie sit up. It felt like someone started flaying open his side. Eddie felt a scream climb his throat and bit it off until all that escaped was a ragged groan.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m going to do all the work and then you can rest, okay?”

Before Eddie could say anything, Buck pulled him into a standing position. A head rush almost sent him sprawling back to the ground. Just as his legs were about to buckle, Buck lifted Eddie off his feet and slung him over his shoulder. 

Eddie bit down on a scream as Buck’s shoulder dug into his stomach, his entire side a hot searing pain.

Moaning, Eddie squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus on his breath, bobbing up and down as Buck carried him away.

* * *

“Eddie. Eddie.”

Eddie woke up to Buck’s worried face peering down at him. The fact that he’d passed out worried him.

“Thank God.”

Swallowing Eddie tried to breathe through the pain. “Where…?”

“In foxhole. I think it’s one of ours.” Buck looked around. “There’s a frying pan still here so I don’t think the German’s have been by. We’re um, safe.”

“Help me…sit up.”

“Are you sure? Isn’t lying down more comfortable?”

“Got to keep...my airway clear. Up. Please.”

Grabbing him by the jacket, Buck pulled and maneuvered Eddie until he propped him against the wall of the foxhole. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed until the dizziness subsided. Breathing shallowly, he looked down at himself. “I need to remove my jacket.”

“I’ve got it.”

Buck undid the buttons then peeled back the sides; he made a choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Eddie peered down at the large stain across his abdomen, running down his trousers. It wasn’t gushing, so nothing hit an artery, but it was heavy, which meant another array of problems. What surprised him was the second stain at his shoulder. 

“I need you to see if they’re through and throughs.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Buck took a shuddering breath. “I’m going to lean you forward. Let me do all the work, okay?”

Eddie nodded his head while Buck carefully took him by the good shoulder, and moved him forward, the burning sensation engulfing Eddie’s side. He gnashed his teeth together, groaning. 

“Okay, there’s another wound on your back.”

“Parallel…to the entrance wound?”

“Higher.”

Eddie hoped it didn’t get his kidney. “And the s-shoulder?”

Buck palpated his back and shoulder. “Negative. It looks like a bad graze.”

That was good. One gunshot wound was bad enough. 

Settling Eddie back against the wall, Buck stared at him, his voice thick. “What now?”

Eddie rested a finger at the pulse at his wrist, counting the too-rapid beats. “We have to stop the bleeding,” he took a pained breath, “and keep my vitals from crashing.”

_“Crashing?”_

“Buck, look at me. I can’t do this by myself. I’m going to need your help.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

Eddie was rational. Bullets expanded, turned into fragments, and made a mess on the way in and out the body. Penetrating trauma caused hemorrhaging. That was his number one concern. _For now._

“I need you to listen. Act quickly. And with confidence. No matter if I scream,” Eddie took a heavy breath, “…you keep doing whatever I tell you. And if I pass out, you have to finish the job. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“It might be a while before I see a surgeon, so you need to help me stop the bleeding.”

Even in the darkness, Eddie could see how terrified Buck was, the sweat on his face, how fast he was breathing, but he was trying, Eddie could tell he was doing his best to hold it together. “I trust you, Buck. _With everything.”_

Buck swallowed, he looked ready to say something, but he clenched his jaw and took several deep breaths, his voice steady. Determined. “I’m ready. I can do this.”

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

Buck had only known terror once before enlisting in the Army and leaving home and that was when his brother died in a mining accident. When he’d been forced to carry his body out and tell his parents that their eldest child was never coming home again.

After that day, Buck vowed that he would escape Pennsylvania, escape breathing in coal dust, escape dying alone with a shovel in his hand.

Swallowing his nerves, he listened to Eddie, quickly pulling supplies out of his medical pack.

Eddie held out his hands and Buck poured water from his canteen over them. “When…you’re done with the exit wound…lie me down and raise my feet.”

Buck almost asked why, then he remembered Eddie used to do that for GIs who’d lost a lot of blood. The ramifications made him nauseous. 

Using a knife, Eddie made two long cuts to his uniform and t-shirt underneath, revealing an ugly wound. _God_ there was so much blood. “Could you bring the light closer?”

Buck adjusted his sweaty hold around his Army issued flashlight, in awe at Eddie’s self-control. 

Putting the knife away, Eddie took his canteen and poured water over the injury, gasping, “Got...to…clean it out.” 

“Understood,” Buck said, grabbing the canteen when Eddie was done. 

Even in the darkness Buck noticed how pale Eddie’s skin was getting.

Taking an ampoule of morphine, Eddie jabbed it into his leg then took the packet resting on his lap and held it up for Buck to see. 

“Sulfa powder,” Buck recited. “After clearing the area shake the sulfa powder in first to avoid infection.”

“Yeah, good.” Holding himself rigid; Eddie groaned as he sprinkled the orange powder into the wound.

Anticipating his next request, Buck ripped open a package of gauze pads. Taking the first pad, Eddie took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled as he pushed the gauze into the wound, his legs jerking in response.

Buck rested his arms on Eddie’s thighs to keep them still, all while holding the flashlight steady. “You’re doing great, Eddie. I know it hurts, man, I know it does, but you have to do it.”

Eddie let out a horrible noise from the back of his throat. Tears ran down Buck’s face as Eddie added more gauze, Buck offering encouragement until, finally, Eddie’s body slackened, and his head lulled onto his chest. 

Putting the flashlight between his neck and shoulder, Buck quickly rinsed his hands and took the third gauze pad. “Rest, Eds. I’ve got it from here. I know what to do.”

Eyes glassy, Eddie mumbled under his breath. Buck wanted to brush the sweaty hair away from his face but knew better. Taking the gauze, he finished packing the wound, trying to imagine it stopping the bleeding rather than focusing on the other horrible thoughts going through his brain. 

When he was done, he applied a dressing, wrapping it around Eddie’s ribs to keep the bandages in place and provide more pressure. Moving quickly, Buck carefully maneuvered Eddie onto his good side, so he could get to the wound on his back.

Knowing this one was larger; Buck took great care and did everything exactly how Eddie showed him with the entrance wound. He kept his hands steady, his breath even, his thoughts focused. 

Being gentle as possible, Buck propped Eddie back against the wall of the foxhole to finish. The gash on the front side on Eddie’s shoulder was last. It looked like the shot clipped him below the collarbone, inches below two raised lines of another scar that looked nothing like a bullet hole.

Only after he finished dressing the last injury did Buck fall apart a little, taking giant gulps of air as his adrenaline crashed and his arms shook. 

But he couldn’t afford to lose it, not right now. Eddie was counting on him and Buck wouldn’t let him down. He reached over to see about getting Eddie into a more comfortable position when Eddie’s head jerked up with gasp. 

“B-buck?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Eddie blinked at him. He looked down at Buck’s handiwork, starting to list sideways before Buck caught him. “Hey, hey, easy now. Don’t pass out again, at least not yet.”

“What…?”

“I need you to put on this on.” Balancing Eddie with one hand, Buck pulled out his spare shirt from his cargo pack. “Can you lift up your arms?”

Eddie weakly tried to push Buck’s hand away. “Don’t….”

“You are not going to argue with me. Put this on. You need to keep warm.”

It was like dressing a scarecrow. Buck removed what was left of Eddie’s old shirt and managed to get him in Buck’s. He wished he had another layer, or something heavier, but at least the shirt was warmish from being inside his pack. 

Buck got Eddie into his army jacket again, buttoning it up. Then he found his extra beanie hat and put it over Eddie’s head, ensuring it covered his ears, and threw the blanket from his pack on top of him. He looked around, but there was nothing else he could do, and it was that moment that Buck understood why Eddie always felt so distraught, so inadequate after helping his patients. 

Fighting against the anguish that threatened to take over again, Buck spread a tarp from his pack onto the snow-covered ground before helping Eddie to lie down and finally lifting his legs over Buck’s rucksack. 

And despite how worn out he was, how he just wanted to curl up beside Eddie, Buck knew he needed to stay awake and keep watch. But mostly, he needed to figure out how the hell they were going to get out of here.

* * *

Using his flashlight, Buck studied the map he’d referenced during the Metz offensive, trying to pinpoint their location. Off in the distance he could hear the rumble of the on-going battle for Königsmacker. 

If they were ten klicks from the river during the attack, and he and Eddie went around almost two or three klicks....

“W-where do you think we are?”

Buck spun around in surprise. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Eddie played with the edge of his beanie hat like he was trying to figure out where he got it. “Like I’ve been shot.”

“You’d be correct.” 

Pushing aside the blanket, Eddie pressed his hands against the ground then seemed to reconsider. He looked over at Buck. “Could you…?”

“Should you be moving at all?” Buck asked even while he knelt beside Eddie.

“I need to get up.”

Buck held an arm out for Eddie to grab a hold while using his other arm to pull him into a sitting position, holding him steady as he swayed. 

“I’m good,” Eddie mumbled his head bowed. Licking his lips, he blew out a breath. “How long was I out?”

“Almost two hours.”

“Did you figure out where we are?”

Buck debated what to say, but this wasn’t a time for dishonesty. “I think we stumbled further into German territory. Our objective was south, and we went east. But not by much.”

Eddie looked around his face scrunched up in confusion. “But this is an American foxhole.”

“Probably from two weeks ago. I think we abandoned it.” Possession of the area had gone back and forth because of its value near the river. “I’m going to wait another hour—right before the sun comes up—if I scout around, I can maybe plot a course toward an Allied position.”

Based on the random sound of heavy artillery in the distance, fighting still raged on for Königsmacker. 

“What about enemy patrols?” Eddie asked. 

“I plan on avoiding those.” Eddie looked like he wanted to smack him, so Buck relented. “I’ll be careful. I won’t go more than a couple of klicks.”

He knew there was no way to predict which direction the German platoon from last night came from or if the soldier who escaped their encounter made his way back to the rest of his people. Still, Buck hoped that the Germans had bigger problems on their hands than two lost GIs. 

The sun would be up soon. Eddie had his medical bag but not his cargo pack, which meant they were low on food. Buck started mentally preparing himself to leave. “Is there anything you need?”

“I need to change these bandages soon.”

Buck froze. “You mean _remove them?”_

“They’re seeping pretty heavily,” Eddie said, pressing his hand over his jacket. “I’m going to have to change them out every few hours until they stay dry.”

Water immediately jumped to the number one spot on Buck’s list of supplies. He swallowed against the growing panic as he watched Eddie rest his finger at his wrist. “I should probably learn how to do that.”

Eddie patted the edge of the tarp. “No time like the present.”

Sitting down, Buck watched in curiosity. 

“The person should hold their arm so it’s straight. The palm should face upwards.” Eddie moved his arm toward Buck. “Place your first and middle finger on the person’s wrist, at the base of their thumb.”

Buck pressed his fingers at the soft part of Eddie’s skin, his own heart beating against his breastbone. 

“Now,” Eddie breathed hard. “Count how many beats you feel a minute.”

Buck tried, but he kept losing track of the number of beats with the number of passing seconds, too distracted by the blood roaring in his ears. He cleared his throat, starting over, licking his lips as Eddie’s pulse fluttered under his fingers.

“You can use a watch,” Eddie said with a chuckle. 

Of course, he could. Buck shook his head and stared at his watch, feeling and counting the rhythm. “Ninety-five. Is that _okay?”_

Eddie gave him a wan smile. “It’s not too bad.”

Buck was pretty sure he didn’t buy that answer. “I need to leave before the sun rises.”

“Be careful.”

Buck pulled out his sidearm and gave it to Eddie, who tried to refuse it. “You’re not saving anyone on the battlefield. I don’t know how much that arm band will help out here.” 

Biting his lip, Eddie took the weapon. “Try not to take any risks for once.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

* * *

Buck despised leaving Eddie alone, but they were too exposed in the foxhole. They needed somewhere more hidden where Buck could devise a better plan than the one he had—which was nothing at all. It was hard to think about escape routes and strategy when all he could think about was how Eddie’s hand shook when he took the pistol from him or that he was really a lousy liar.

Buck kept walking, searching for a barn, a cave, _anything._ Crouching beside some rocks, Buck rested a hand on his own wrist, taking his pulse after walking at a brisk pace for over ten minutes. It was a hundred. Which meant Eddie’s heart rate was fast for someone sitting still.

A sudden noise made him duck under a fallen tree. Searching for the source of the sound, he realized it was a squirrel jumping from one branch to another. 

Even at pre-dawn he could hear troop movement. Using his spot from under the tree he listened to the sounds of men walking, tensing when he heard random conversations in German. 

Buck noted the direction they were moving on the map: _away_ from the foxhole where Eddie was resting. Which Buck was about to head the opposite way.

* * *

His paranoia level was through the roof. Buck had avoided two more enemy platoons, all walking from different directions but still headed toward Königsmacker. The disorganization of their movements was frustrating; he couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or just frantic shuffling around of available units. 

Either way, it made moving during the day to escape even more dangerous. Damn it. 

Circling back, Buck went in another direction, knowing he couldn’t venture too far. The mud was still thick in areas, and he tried hard not to wear himself out during his search.

Just when he was about to give up, he spotted something. Breath quickening, Buck kept moving, slower this time, keeping an eye for the enemy, but there were no signs of the Germans as he approached the remains of a house.

Only three walls were standing, and the roof was gone, though part of a fireplace remained. It was in shambles. But a memory from his childhood flashed in his brain as he thought back to his home, to playing in the woods with his brother and Maddie.

_This was exactly what they needed._

* * *

Buck returned to the foxhole easily enough but arguing with Eddie was not on the agenda. 

“I’m not very mobile, Buck.”

“I’m not leaving you in a hole in the ground.” Buck didn’t waste time with words, throwing the blanket and anything else they needed into his cargo pack. “I filled my canteen with snow and ice. I knew we should boil it but it’s still pretty fresh.”

_“Buck.”_

“We just need to go about two klicks.” Buck slung the pack over his shoulders. Crouching in front of Eddie, Buck studied his pale face. “Do you need more morphine before we start walking?”

There wasn’t time for arguing, not with the number enemy troops wandering around, but he was prepared to haul Eddie around whether he liked it or not. Eddie seemed to sense this when he relented. “A dose will make it easier for us to move undetected.”

Buck mentally sighed in relief. He handed Eddie the canteen so he could take his fill of water, then waited until he was finished self-administering his pain medication. 

Buck helped Eddie stand; Eddie wrapping his fingers around Buck’s biceps in a steel grip, the strength encouraging. 

Buck bent over and grabbed the medical pack, but Eddie took it for him. “You can’t carry both.”

Giving in a little, Buck helped Eddie put the strap over his shoulder. 

It took some coordination to get out of the hole. Eddie leaned heavily on Buck while Buck kept him steady with a supportive arm around his waist. 

They continued through the woods at a shuffle. It was slow-going, with Buck stopping a lot to give Eddie time to rest. Not to mention having to hide when the enemy were close.

Eddie never complained; he dug his fingers into Buck’s jacket, panted for air like they were running sprints, even buried pain-filled groans into Buck’s shoulder. But he pushed forward even when Buck was sure he couldn’t anymore. 

And while Buck struggled with the combined weight of his cargo pack and supporting Eddie’s increasing load, Buck planted one foot in front of the other until they reached their sanctuary. 

“Was it…falling…apart…before?” Eddie asked, breathing heavy. 

“Yep. And that’s why it’s perfect.” Buck looked up at the sky as snow started to fall. “And this fresh powder will cover it _and_ the tracks we made.”

Eddie leaned on a tree while Buck moved away from the depilated house and searched the ground. He brushed away the snow to reveal a wooden door beneath then pulled it open.

“I thought we just left…a fox hole?”

Buck looked over at Eddie with excitement. “It’s not a fox hole. It’s a root cellar.”

* * *

The floor of the cellar was made up of dirt and the walls stone. Buck almost toppled over getting Eddie down the stone steps without letting him fall. Winded, Buck let Eddie lean against one of the wooden shelves as he pulled the cellar doors closed. 

Pulling his flashlight out of his jacket pocket, he hurried to pull things out of his pack. 

“I spread some hay around when I was down here earlier. Let me put the tarp down and you can relax.”

Eddie practically collapsed on the little pile Buck made, his breathing ragged.

“There’s like a lantern around…,” Buck looked around at the shelves that lined the walls. “Found it.” He used his lighter to start it. “Got to have light to see where your vegetables are stored. Hey. Maybe there’s still some here.”

But Eddie wasn’t paying attention to him. He’d already unbuttoned his jacket and had started pulling up his shirt, the front of which was already wet with blood.

“Jesus, Eds.” Buck knelt beside him, pawing through the medical bag. He got all the items they needed to re-dress the wound. “Let me, okay?”

Eddie nodded weakly at him before resting against the make-shift bedroll with his eyes closed. The trek here had really taken its toll. Guilt gnawed at Buck, but the foxhole had been too out in the open with the number of enemy crawling around.

“You…made the correct decision….”

Buck pulled out the sulfa powder and bandages, angry at himself. “You can read my mind now?”

“Don’t have to. It was the right call.”

In his gut, Buck knew it’d been the right choice in a horrible situation. But it still didn’t sit well. “Do you need more morphine?”

Eddie contemplated the ampoule Buck held out and shook his head. “Should save it for later.”

“Nothing? Are you sure?” Buck looked around the cellar. “Maybe there’s some wine stored in here.” 

But there wasn’t any wine to be found. 

Buck washed his hands with the canteen water then steeled himself for what he had to do next. He stared at the gauze pads. 

“You did a good job last night.” 

Even now, Eddie was trying to give him a pep talk. Buck swallowed against the lump in this throat. “I just hate hurting you.”

“You’re helping me stay alive, Buck.” Eddie reached over and squeezed his wrist. “It gets easier, I promise.”

* * *

Buck didn’t mean to fall asleep, but when he’d slowly come to, he realized he was lying beside Eddie on their makeshift bedroll. And for a second Buck felt warm inside his chest, a desire to lay closer and go back to sleep. But he knew that he couldn’t. 

Sitting up, Buck rubbed his eyes. He turned on his flashlight and set it on the floor, the light shining on the ceiling. 

Buck studied the pinched features of Eddie’s face, the way he wrapped his arms around himself. Buck frowned in sympathy. They couldn’t make a fire in here. Maybe he could do something with the hay. Spread it around for insulation. 

He reached over and touched the pulse point at Eddie’s neck, counting the beats beneath his finger. It was a hundred and ten. Buck sucked in a worried breath.

Eddie stirred his voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

Buck checked his watch. “1100. Now that you’re awake, I can search for some food.”

Using his flashlight, Buck checked the wooden shelves, his eyes lighting up at the far right one. “Hey, there’s carrots.” He started searching the ground and cubby holes, his smile widening. “I found barrels of potatoes down here.” Buck got up, waving the spud around. 

Eddie watched him with an amused look. “How’d you know about this type of place?”

“When I was kid, I’d play in my neighbor’s root cellars. Most of them were built away from the house. We used to pretend we were pirates looking for buried treasure.”

“Sounds like fun,” Eddie said with a smile. 

“It was. I knew this would be a good spot to hide in. It keeps the vegetable above freezing despite how cold it is outside. Also keeps moisture out. Are you hungry?” They hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. 

Eddie grimaced. “I should stick to fluids.”

Buck rubbed the dirt off the potato. He had two MREs, but he wanted to save them for later, especially if Eddie changed his mind.

“It’s better to eat raw carrots than potatoes,” Eddie said, taking a drink from his canteen. He pushed up with his hands until he was sitting propped against the wall, then wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “So, what’s the plan?”

Buck put down the potato and pulled the map out of his back pocket. “We need to find the river again. Trace it back to our original location.”

“So, backtrack?”

“Yeah. I think we’re here,” Buck pointed to an area further east. “Just within German territory. That’s why there’s so much troop movement. Once Königsmacker falls, they’re going to retreat toward Luxembourg.”

“Wouldn’t our guys try to outflank them?”

Buck smiled at Eddie’s question. “Listen to you, General Diaz. It makes sense if the 16th sent reinforcements in our direction along the river. I think that’s key. We just need to wait until dark and use the cover of night to return.”

Eddie shifted with a wince. “And if I were more mobile?”

“We’d still wait until dark. We can’t evade like that many patrols in the daylight. Not with the number of infantrymen wandering around.”

“Just checking.”

Folding the map, Buck shook it at Eddie as he spoke. “What’s with the _just checking?_ Why don’t you count supplies and leave the master escape strategy to me.”

“You do remember I outrank you?” Eddie asked with a smirk. 

Ignoring Eddie, Buck pulled out a knife and started peeling some of the carrots he’d found. “Uh-huh.”

* * *

Buck passed the time by organizing all the vegetables in the cellar, not there were many. He found another can of oil for the lantern, a few old newspapers from 1940, all in French, so he couldn’t read them. He’d also dug a hole in the corner of the cellar to take care of their other needs.

Mostly though, he and Eddie talked. About home, baseball, the things that kept them going.

Buck took a spot beside Eddie, who shared the blanket by draping it over Buck’s shoulders, both leaning against the cellar wall. 

“What do plan on doing when you return to El Paso?” Buck asked, enjoying the shared warmth. 

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to become a doctor?”

Eddie snorted. “I can’t afford that. Besides. I couldn’t be away from Christopher that long.”

Buck looked over at him in confusion. Who became a combat medic if they weren’t going to use it later in life? “But I thought you were going to study medicine when this was all over?”

“No, you and the rest of the guys assumed that.”

“But you have all this experience. And you like helping people.”

“I do. It makes me feel like I can make a difference.” Eddie released a long breath, his voice more introspective. “But I’m not sure how knowing how to amputate a limb while being shot at qualifies me for anything.”

Buck didn’t have an answer for that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what his plans were after he hung up his rifle. Bobby had made a few suggestions once, but Buck wasn’t sure how any applied to him. “You could go out west. I heard they are like great jobs and nice housing there. Shipyards and airfields. Maybe Las Angels?”

“You mean Los Angeles?”

“That’s what I said.” Buck adjusted the blanket. “I don’t know what I want to do. If I go back home. Maybe I’ll just…travel for a while.”

“You could visit.”

“Where?”

“El Paso. To see Christopher and I.”

The invitation was unexpected and exciting. Buck tried to keep his voice even despite the desire to grin like a loon. “You want me to meet your son?”

“I thought maybe….”

“What?” Buck prodded. 

“After the war.” Eddie ducked his head as he struggled for words. “We could…you know….”

“Like hang out?” Buck swallowed. “And then what? After we _hang out?”_

“I’m not sure. I mean.” Eddie looked away, clearly embarrassed. 

Buck hated the fact that he’d prodded, his own enthusiasm running away with him. But he couldn’t do it. Set himself up for heartache and loneliness. Because he couldn’t follow what his heart wanted, what he desired so desperately that it physically hurt. Neither of them could. 

“We’re different Eddie. You and me. But we can’t….”

“Can’t what?” Eddie asked, wiping at his eyes.

Buck pushed away the blanket and stood up, frustration making his voice shake. “Act on it. Okay? We just _can’t._ No matter how much I want us to.”

Eddie threw the rest of the blanket to the ground, tears running down his face. “But we can march all over Europe, witness every matter of cruelty, kill people? Watch friends die. We can do _those things?”_

What did Eddie expect from him? He wanted Buck to visit him and his son. Then what? Hold hands in secret? Share a kiss when no one was looking?

Buck turned away from Eddie, his chest hurting so much it was hard to breathe. “You should, um…really get some rest. I’ll…I’ll look around again to see if there’s anything we can use when we leave tonight.”

Walking toward the furthest end of the room possible, Buck kicked one of the potato barrels, the pain barely registering in his foot.

* * *

Even though he’d been moving around, Buck still shivered. The temperature started dropping as it got later in the day. He checked his watch. It was 1800. 

Eddie had been quiet and when Buck tried engaging with him, the conversation had been stilted. He felt guilty for how he reacted earlier, but there was nothing he could do. 

He looked over at Eddie who’d fallen asleep. He wanted to talk again, to replace the sting of their earlier argument with something else. 

Buck rested a hand on Eddie’s arm. Eddie jerked awake, his eyes flying open.

“Sorry, it’s just me.” Buck cursed at himself; Eddie was always jumpy about being startled. But there was something not quite right. He touched Eddie’s wrist; it was clammy. “How do you feel?”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Got a headache.”

Buck noticed how Eddie’s hand trembled. Eddie must have picked up on it because he nodded at him. “Blood loss can cause body heat to decrease.”

Buck started removing his jacket. 

“Don’t,” Eddie said. 

“You need to keep warm.”

“So do you. I’ve already got your spare shirt and the blanket. You need to keep your core temp up if you’re going to be dragging me into the snow.”

They were at an impasse. But there was more than one way to combat blood loss. “Then drink more water. We’ll refill the canteens once we’re outside.”

“That’s fair.”

Buck unscrewed the cap, but didn’t hold the canteen up, giving Eddie more sense of control. 

Eddie had to use both hands to take several large swallows before handing it back. “Thanks.”

Buck considered their plans, glad to have something else to focus on “We’ll leave around 2100.”

“Sounds good.”

When Eddie didn’t point out the fact that Buck had moved the timetable up an hour, Buck knew it’d been a good decision.

* * *

By 2100 Buck had cleaned his rifle, gathered their stuff and eaten one of the MREs to sustain him throughout the night. 

“Eddie, I need to pack the tarp.”

Eddie grabbed a hold of Buck’s arm, but Buck had to do all the work to help him stand, Eddie’s face pinched in obvious pain. Stabilizing Eddie against one of the shelves, Buck grabbed the tarp and stuffed it inside his pack. 

“Buck, we need to face facts.” Eddie leaned heavily against the shelf. “I’m not very ambulatory. You could get a lot further without me.”

“No.”

“It’s not abandonment; it’s getting help.”

Buck got right into Eddie’s face “I’m not leaving you. End of story.”

“I have a gunshot wound. It needs proper care in a sterile area.” Eddie closed his eyes, suppressing a grimace. “Not to mention antibiotics and hopefully some good pain killers.”

Buck’s lower jaw started trembling. “Please don’t ask me to do this. The Metz offensive could be almost over…more of our guys could be arriving--”

“In a few days or even a week from now. I don’t have a week, Buck.”

Buck clenched his jaw. “That’s why we’re leaving now. Plenty of nighttime for cover. You keep forgetting that _this is my job,_ ” he said, breathing heavy. “You save lives on the field and I protect you.”

Eddie sighed, looking grey and worn. “We’re not in the field.”

“Yeah, it’s far worse. We’re in enemy territory so please stop making my job more difficult.”

Buck grabbed Eddie’s arm and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll come back for the pack once we’re above ground.”

Not giving Eddie a chance to argue, Buck began prodding them toward the steps when he heard a rumble outside. Buck froze. The rumble became a clanking noise, loud and vibrating.

“Hold on,” Buck said.

Eddie sunk to one of the lower steps with a groan while Buck slowly made his way to the cellar doors. Listening for any sounds of talking, Buck slowly opened the hatch barely an inch, just enough for him to place his face along the crack he’d just created to the outside. 

Buck watched and listened for a solid minute; what he saw made him want to scream. Closing the door, he walked back down to where Eddie was looking at him in expectation. 

“What’s going on?”

“There’s a Panzer tank just a few feet away from the house.” Buck sank against the wall in defeat. “It looks like it’s broken down and a German squad is camped out trying to repair it.”

Neither of them was leaving anytime soon.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Eddie grew up in El Paso. It flourished during prohibition from illegal liquor trade, but he never really wanted to raise his son there. His father worked as the transportation manager at the local airport. In his dad’s last letter, he’d written that he could get Eddie a job at Continental Airlines, a new company that relocated there. 

But Eddie didn’t want to work for an airline; he didn’t want to live in El Paso, either. Maybe he should have told Buck that? That he’d planned on moving to a bigger city with Christopher, somewhere with better schools and doctors for his son. Maybe Buck didn’t want to visit because he didn’t like kids…although hadn’t he told Eddie that he loved children?

His chest ached at the thought of Christopher’s smile or his laugher when playing marbles, his inquisitiveness looking at all the cacti in the back yard. The ache turned hollow when his thoughts drifted to the last time he’d seen his little boy.

Christopher had sat on the steps of the house and looked up at Eddie. “Grandma told me you’re going far away across the ocean.”

Eddie sat down next to him. “I’m going to fly in a big airplane.” 

“Will you see mommy there?”

Startled, Eddie rested his hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “What?”

“You told me that mommy went far away too. Up in heaven.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m going to go help people who get hurt in the war and then I’m coming back home.”

“Do you promise?”

Christopher had looked at Eddie with such need of reassure that Eddie took him into his arms. “I promise.”

He’d made a promise damn it. And he planned on keeping it. 

_Suck-it up, Edmundo,_ his father would say. _Pull yourself up because no one else will help you._

Eddie’s eyes watered as Buck changed out the dressing of the exit wound. He gnawed his wrist when it felt someone was pushing a hot knife through muscle, his body shaking even when Buck was done. Eddie would have traded anything for more morphine but what little remained he rationed for later.

A warm hand touched his neck, then moved toward his shoulder, fingers making soothing circles. “I’m done. It’s over.”

One hand became two, gently moving him onto his back, onto the area that had just been dug into. Eddie just lay there like a lump while Buck buttoned up his jacket and draped a blanket over him. It was like he wasn’t in control over his limbs—it was simply that every movement took enormous effort and even all buddle-up, he was still so cold.

He knew one thing: he didn’t way to lie down anymore. Even though it was the best way to keep his legs raised above his heart, Eddie just couldn’t take it. “Help me up,” he grunted.

Buck stopped arguing with most of his requests, looking as exhausted as Eddie felt. He pulled Eddie up by his jacket collar and maneuvered him until he was leaning against the wall, the room spinning with all the change in position. 

Buck rummaged through his pack; his face obscured by flickering shadows from the lantern. “I know you said you don’t want to eat, but I think you need to. What did you say to me once? Something about blood sugar?”

“What time is it?” Eddie asked instead.

“0200.”

Four hours since the Panzer tank had broken down in front of their hidey-hole. Buck had checked every hour on the hour, his face more crestfallen each time. 

Eddie looked around for the canteen, then remembered that there wasn’t much water left. They both drank a lot in anticipation filling it back up again when they got outside. 

“Come on, Eddie.” Buck pulled out the last MRE from his pack. “Split it with me.”

Eddie’s body needed energy. It needed fluids and electrolytes…and blood. But he couldn’t risk digesting food at this point, not when he wasn’t sure the impact it would have or when he might get surgery. _If he got surgery._

Eddie pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “Eat the whole thing. You’re gonna need it.”

Buck was a stubborn mule with a heart of gold. He pulled out half a Hersey bar and held it up. “Maybe this will change your mind?”

“If I eat that, I’ll throw it back up,” Eddie told him.

It was like he’d just kicked a puppy. But at least Buck ate the whole MRE, which was good. It made Eddie feel better that Buck got some food in him, knowing how much the cold weather and stress could take a toll on even the strongest person. If anything, Buck needed the energy most of all if they were going to get out of here.

Eddie shivered constantly now, one particular shudder making his bones rattle. Before he knew it, Buck was beside him, moving the blanket around them both, Buck’s shoulder touching Eddie’s, adding a little more warmth, giving just enough physical contact to crave more.

It was so unfair, the wanting. The need for something he couldn’t have. But no matter how much it made his heart ache to be this close, Buck was still Eddie’s best friend in the whole forsaken world. And that had to be enough.

“Tell me about Pennsylvania,” Eddie asked.

“There’s not much to tell really. Other than I kind of hated it there.”

“Guess we’re both just trying to find somewhere else to go.” Closing his eyes, Eddie wrapped his arms around himself. “Then tell me about you sister.”

* * *

When Eddie reported for boot camp at Fort Hood, he had never held a rifle before, or fired a gun. He’d never killed a man or seen one die. He had no interest in either. But if he was going to war, then he was going to go on his terms.

After being drafted, he’d submitted to the physical and psychiatric exams, then was given an interview. 

The Staff Sergeant looked up from his clipboard. “What special skills do you have, Recruit?”

“Skills?” Eddie asked. 

“Trade, education. Interests or hobbies?”

Eddie had been interested in mechanics before Christopher was born. “Biology and science, sir.”

“Biology, huh?” The sergeant clicked his tongue. “And what branch do you want to serve in?”

“I want to be an Army medic.”

* * *

“Eddie?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Eddie, come on, wake up.”

A hand touched his face, but Eddie just wanted to curl further away. 

“Eddie, you’re warm.”

Eddie had never heard Buck’s voice so frantic before. Shifting, he opened his eyes to find Buck crouched over him, his eyes big and worried. Buck reached over to touch the pulse point at Eddie’s throat, but Eddie took Buck’s fingers into his own. “It’s okay.”

Buck clenched his jaw, angry. “No, it’s _not_ okay. You’re sick.”

Eddie licked his lips. His throat was very dry, his skin warm to the touch. “It’s not unexpected.”

“Well, it is for me. What does it mean?”

Eddie’s practical side fought with his emotional; Buck deserved honesty. “I’m fighting an infection and now I have a fever.”

“But we were careful.” Buck’s voice warbled. “I-I washed my hands and use all the sulfa powder. I–”

 _“Did everything right,”_ Eddie said, grabbing Buck’s hand. “The battlefield isn’t a hospital.”

“Yeah, okay. So, what do we do? How can I fix it?”

Eddie swallowed, desperate to give Buck the answers he wanted, _needed,_ and knowing there was nothing either of them could do. He took as deep as breath as he could, squeezing Buck’s hand. “We wait until the Germans leave.”

Buck stared at him, his face frozen in sad realization, anger, guilt, fear. He squeezed Eddie’s hand in return. “Maybe I could—” 

“Buck. Please.”

Eddie would do anything to fix it, too. He was going to fight like hell, but he had to pick his battles, the ones he had control over. 

Buck released a heavy breath, seeming to understand. “Talk to me about Christopher. What’s his favorite thing to do?”

* * *

When Shannon went into labor, it had been the scariest time in Eddie’s life —until the complications occurred—and she died giving birth. He never thought he’d ever experience fear like that again. 

That was before he saw first-hand what a bullet could do to the human body, before he’d witnessed the horrors of war and the evil that men could inflict on one another. 

“Eddie!”

“Please, Eddie. Wake up.”

It took too much energy to open his eyes. “B-buck?”

“You were talking in you sleep and I couldn’t wake you.”

Eddie blinked up at Buck’s worried face hovering over him. “What?”

“You were shaking like a leaf. I thought you were going to break something. You need to stay awake, okay?”

“…tired.”

“Well, too bad. You think you’re tired? You keep taking all these naps. Guess who keeps finding ways to have light in here? Or keeps checking on the squad parked outside the door? Or keeps your bandages clean?” 

The ragged growl of Buck’s voice jolted Eddie to more awareness. “Are you…yelling at me?”

“Yes. No. I mean….” Buck started rubbing his hands up and down Eddie’s arms under the blanket. “No, I’m not. Just don’t sleep to the point that I can’t wake you up.”

It was then that Eddie realized his head was cradled in Buck’s lap. Buck whose hair was sticking up in all directions, his face wan, eyes red-rimmed and obviously sleep-deprived. Buck who had been pushed past the breaking point. 

“It’s 0400. And I thought…the German squad. They’re probably asleep.” Buck kept rubbing Eddie’s arm as he spoke. “It’s pitch dark out there. We could probably find a way to sneak past them.”

It took a moment for Buck’s insane plan to sink into Eddie’s brain. “Sneak past an entire squad in hopes that none of them are awake? Open a squeaky cellar door piled with snow?”

“We could be quiet if we’re careful.”

“Do you know how much noise we’d make? That _I’d_ make?”

Buck was determined though, wielding the same type of ridiculous off the cuff thinking that had gotten them out of impossible situations before. “We still have the morphine. I could carry you until we were out of earshot then you could walk the rest of the way.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, you’d lean on me most of the way,” Buck relented. “But you could do it, Eddie. I know you could. You’ve run into the middle of battlefield just on the faith that no one was going to shoot you.”

“That’s the job.”

“That’s you, Eds. In a nutshell.” God, Buck’s faith ran so deep, it was a detriment sometimes. “You can do it. I know you can. Hell, you’ve got a what? A bronze star? _Silver?_ They don’t award those for nothing.”

Eddie looked away, not caring. “I don’t deserve a medal.”

“Eddie,” Buck said, digging his fingers into Eddie’s shoulders. 

“I don’t. I should’ve…I…,” Another violent shudder ran through him. Eddie bit down on his lip at all the terrible memories. At his failures. “I should have done more.”

Buck snaked his arm around and took Eddie’s hand. “Those who lead always feel like they’ve should have done more.”

Eddie couldn’t help wondering if that was something that Captain Nash had told Buck in a time of crisis.

If they were going to escape, now was the time. It’d been over twenty-four hours since Eddie had been shot. His vitals would continue to trend downward, his fever would worsen. This was it. Time to muster all his reserves. 

A sudden rumbling outside made him freeze, Buck gripping Eddie’s hand even harder. The rumbling sounded strange, like when an engine sputtered or made a last chugging gasp. 

Eddie’s heart fell when he realized that the damn tank was still outside, and the Germans were not asleep—they were still trying to repair it.

* * *

Eddie had a fever once when he was a child. A horrible flu had gone through town and Eddie knew it was bad when his mother constantly sat at his bedside and prayed for him. 

During his more lucid moments, Eddie could hear Buck mumble under his breath, bargains with God, prayers, threats, and sometimes random babbles of reassurances. 

Eddie knew things were not great; it was harder to remain awake for more than a few minutes at a time. 

And he hurt so much. His whole body did. He’d agree to some morphine to give his body time to rest. To give Buck a break.

He tried damn it. He fought. For Christopher, for Buck. Eddie wasn’t going down without a fight. 

“Come on, Eddie, there’s a few sips of water left.”

Buck held the canteen for him; the water felt so good going down Eddie’s throat. Eddie grabbed Buck’s hand with numb fingers. “If you get a chance, you escape.”

“We’re escaping together, Eddie. You hear me? When I give the signal, we’re going to haul ass out of here. Hey, do you hear me, _Sergeant?”_

Eddie stared at Buck’s determine face. “Copy that.”

But when he closed his eyes, Eddie dreamed of the desert.

* * *

**Tunisia**  
_August, 1942_

Sweat beaded in Eddie’s hair, blowing sand stung his eyes as he stood outside behind the rocky terrain. He stared back at the bombed building turned-portable field hospital for the third time, wondering where the ambulances were. He’d take a wheel barrel at this point. 

One of the men in his company ran by him. “We’ve evacing now, Diaz! Move!” 

But he couldn’t. All Eddie could do was stare out at the desert as American tank after tank got blown to bits by heavy German artillery. 

A jeep filled with retreating GIs burst into flames. 

His heart pounded. It was a nightmare. Inexperienced and nervous GIs were overwhelmed by a much more experienced enemy. He watched men abandon their positions, their supplies destroyed, panicked forces in full retreat. 

The sun’s glare off the ground almost blinded him, but Eddie continued searching the horizon, his throat choking from the air. A giant orange cloud started forming overhead from the all dust being kicked up from the approaching line of Panzer tanks in the distance.

Another group of men jumped out of shallow holes in the sand, a first sergeant yelling, “There’s too much dust in the air! Switch to bayonets!”

“Diaz!”

Eddie ran back into their make-shift hospital of the last four days. “Sir?”

Lieutenant Cobb finished wrapping a fresh bandage around a GI’s burned arm. “Status on the transport?”

“Nothing yet,” Eddie said. He looked back at the continued sounds of fighting.

Cobb snapped his fingers. “Our duty is only to our patients, Diaz. Nothing else matters.”

“Yes, Sir. Of course.”

“Good. Now, I administered morphine to on all the red tags.” Cobb handed Eddie IV tubing. “The six most critical are on stretchers ready to move out, the other eight will remain in their beds for the next ride.”

Eddie did the math in his head. That only accounted for three-fourths of their wounded. “What about the others?”

“Yellow tags. They’ll go last.”

 _Delayed._ “But sir….”

Cobb removed his glasses and rubbed the lens with the edge of his shirt. “We prioritize those who can survive. Understood?”

Eddie was starting to learn. “Yes, sir.”

“Hawkins responded to the plasma transfusion; I need you to—”

Two GIs ran through the building, screaming, “Everyone. Move, move, move, we’re being overrun!”

Cobb ignored them, still updating Eddie on their patients. “Evans’ tibia is set. I think we can avoid amputation if—” 

The front wall was stuck by heavy fire and debris started crumbling over some of the patients awaiting transport. Eddie ran over and started dragging the first gurney out of the way and into the small hallway.

A familiar hand reached out and touched his arm. “Forget me, find Miller.”

“I’ll grab him next, Sir.”

“Eddie, please.”

Grunting with the effort of pulling the stretcher alone, Eddie moved it until it was in the hallway. 

Eddie bent over Han, his platoon leader; amazed he was still conscious. Eddie had given him morphine ten minutes ago for the shrapnel wounds to his side. “I’m grabbing him next.”

Han stared at him with a loopy grin. “I owe you a beer.”

Eddie turned around and was knocked back the force of an explosion. Dizzy, he rolled onto his side, then onto his hands and knees. 

It took a second for his head to clear before he realized an enemy soldier had entered the hallway. The German’s uniform was covered head to toe with sand and when he spotted Han on the stretcher; he aimed his rifle. 

Eddie jumped between Han and the threat, holding up his hands. “Please, don’t shoot.”

The soldier jumped back startled, firing his weapon at Eddie point blank. But the rifle jammed. Staring at Eddie’s arm band, the soldier mumbled something and wandered back outside. 

“Jesus,” Han swore. 

Eddie locked eyes with Han, his brain trying to process what just happened when he heard screaming from the other room. 

“Medic!”

“Help us!” 

Eddie started running toward the room when he heard gunfire. His feet skidded to a halt, his heart pounding, his mind panicked. Torn by indecision and fear, he tried to catch his breath, to think, when four more shots rang out. Followed by several more.

Hands shaking, Eddie pulled out his side arm and charged back inside. He spotted the first gurney against the wall and saw nothing but blood. 

All sound was caught in the back of his throat. Everything moved in slow motion as his eyes took in the second, third, and fourth gurney, the wounded murdered in their beds. 

Cobb lay sprawled on his back, his chest riddled with bullet holes. He reached out a hand in Eddie’s direction. 

Eddie noticed movement out of the corner of his eye: two German soldiers working their way around the beds, searching the pockets of the wounded. 

A third German stood in the middle of the room, casually reloading his Luger. A patient, Miller, staggered and fell out of bed, trying to crawl away.

The German with the Luger trained his weapon at him. 

“Stop!” Eddie yelled, raising his side arm. 

The soldier holding the Luger looked at Eddie, at his medic armband, and with a smirk, aimed at Miller.

Eddie squeezed the trigger. 

The bullet struck the German in the shoulder, spinning him around until he fell. His two buddies fumbled for the rifles slung over their shoulders. 

Lunging toward the ground, Eddie landed hard, then scrambled behind one of the cots. He saw Miller still trying to escape, heard the enemy soldiers yelling at each other in German. 

Eddie watched where their legs went, running toward the back of the room. 

“Diaz!” Miller wheezed. 

Keeping low, Eddie reached Miller, grabbing him by the wrists; Eddie dragged him away from the middle of the room where he was exposed. 

Dropping Miller in the corner, Eddie searched for Cobb to see if he was still alive. Cobb was motionless and Eddie started moving toward him when he heard a faint whisper from patient on a nearby cot, warning him, “your left flank….”

Eddie spun around and fired. Blood spread across the front of the soldier's shirt, the rifle slipping from his fingers and clattering to ground. The kid stared up at Eddie with the most shocked eyes -- he couldn’t have been older than sixteen. 

Eddie lowered his weapon, “I’m sorry. I’m…,” he started toward the teen when he felt a punch to his back.

Staring down, he saw a bayonet sticking out of the front of his shoulder. Someone had stabbed him from behind.

For a moment Eddie forgot how to breathe, then he felt blade shift as it was pulled out. Gasping, Eddie went to his knees.

He watched as the German who bayoneted him run over and grab the kid Eddie had shot and carry him away.

Eddie’s legs felt like they were being poked by thousands of needles, the blood running down his chest sticky and warm. 

He searched the room for Cobb, to see if he could still reach him, but even from here, Eddie knew his CO was gone. Half of their critically injured patients were dead. Who was going to help the rest?

“Diaz?”

That sounded like Sergeant Han’s voice. Eddie wasn’t sure. He was too busy searching for his wallet, for the picture of his son, to take in Christopher’s beautiful face; not wanting his final memory to be that of a teen’s shocked eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie muttered to his son as everything blurred out of focus.

* * *

Tears ran down Eddie’s burning face, but no matter how many times he apologized, it wasn’t enough. _He wasn’t enough._

“Shhhhh, Eddie, I’ve got you. You did everything you could.”

But he hadn’t. Didn’t anyone understand? Patients died. He’d shot a kid. And the Army gave him a medal for it.

“Eddie. You protected your patients. You saved them. Holy crap, you saved them under the worse conditions.”

It didn’t feel like it. It never did.

And it took a second for him to realize he’d been talking out loud. He’d been sharing with Buck everything that had haunted him for the last two years.

But mostly, Eddie realized that Buck’s arms were wrapped around him, holding him close, Eddie’s head resting against Buck’s chest. It was surreal and confusing and comforting all at once. 

God, he felt awful. Cold and hot at the same time. His thoughts fuzzy and scattered. “Buck…?”

“No, don’t you try arguing with me again. Your brain is roasting from a fever and morphine; you are not making any sense. And don’t try pulling rank on me again because you are not fit to make decisions.”

When had Eddie done that?

At some point Buck had moved so that Eddie was propped back against the wall, his body shivering in earnest from the lost contact. 

“Listen to me, Eddie.” Buck was crouched in front of him, hands resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “The tank left. It’s gone. We need to leave. _Now.”_

 _Leave._ They could leave.

“W-what time is it?”

“0900.” Buck started gathering his rucksack and the medical bag. “You’ve been really out of it, but we have to go. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“Christopher?”

“Yes, Eddie, you’re going to see your son again. We’re going escape and we’re going to see him.”

Something excited flashed inside his brain, but Eddie was too out of it to understand why. 

Buck maneuvered Eddie until he was on his feet. Everything tilted and spun around, but Eddie held onto the shelf for dear life. He must have been given the last of the morphine because his injury was a dull throb. 

While Eddie’s brain was sloshed, he wasn’t that far gone. “It’s daylight, Buck.” And Eddie was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to walk far.

It was suicide to go out during the day. And Buck was exhausted, Eddie could tell in the hoarseness in his voice, the way he missed a step as he packed up carrots and supplies.

“Buck—”

Buck took Eddie’s face between his hands, rubbed his thumbs over his heated cheeks. “Do you trust me, Eds?”

“Yes,” Eddie said without hesitancy.

It still amazed Eddie the look Buck got when someone paid him a compliment; it was the sweetest, most endearing smile he’d ever seen. But it was also an expression of surprise. The one thing Eddie was going to do after they escaped, after they made it back, was ensure Buck got complimented enough that it was _never_ a surprise again.

It was at least one promise that Eddie could make to him in return.

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

In Pennsylvania, accidents were common in mining. Every crew had a leader who inspected the area for safety; Buck’s brother oversaw the early morning operation.

Waiting on the shift change, Buck pulled out a cigarette and started to light it. 

His brother yanked it out of his mouth and smashed it on the ground. “Don’t you ever take that on the job, you hear? I want to see you make it to your fifteenth birthday.”

“Do you really think I’ll still be around the pits when I’m fifteen?”

Maybe it’d been a long day, or the sun had been shining a certain way, but his normally _tell it like it is_ brother stared at Buck and sighed. “I hope not. I hope you find something that doesn’t break your back for twelve hours a day. Don’t be like me; find something else.”

“How? I mean…,” Buck swallowed. “How will I know if it’s the right thing?”

“You’ll feel it in your blood. It’ll call to you and you’ll have no choice but to go after it.” His brother snorted. “Hell, look at Maddie.”

The heat from the explosion that killed his brother could be felt inside the tunnel half a mile away. It took eight hours to dig through the debris to reach his body. During the last hour, Buck used his bare hands.

Buck despised the smell of gas; he hated digging trenches and loathed the way some walls would sometimes close in on him when he was in confined places. He hated the root cellar even more.

It was dawn and Buck and Eddie had been trapped for almost a day.

Buck paced in the tiny rigors of their refuge, except the more he paced, the more it felt like a prison. _Or a grave._

_No. They were going to escape._

He kept striding, kept creating possible scenarios in his head, rubbing his hands up and down his arms to try to generate heat. 

Because he would not give up. “Once we’re out of here, it’s like two klicks back to our original position. That’s not far. And we’ll have to stop a lot and you’ll be able to rest, but I have faith that our patrols will be out by then, or reinforcements.”

Eddie didn’t reply to Buck’s ramblings. He wouldn’t eat or accept his Hersey bar, wouldn’t accept the morphine Buck tried to give him. 

It killed him, this horrible, hopeless waiting game, watching Eddie deteriorate before his eyes. 

Buck resisted the urge to grab his rifle and take things into his own hands. He could feel it in his bones, the fear and hate grappling with one another, and sometimes, he’d stare up at the cellar door, thinking maybe, _just maybe,_ he could take out that squad. 

_“Do not rush into situations without thinking,”_ Bobby’s words echoed in his head. _“A good solider listens to his gut, but doesn’t give in to impulse without working through the consequences for him and his team.”_

And if he went out there, guns blazing, he’d get himself killed and they would come for Eddie, and no. _Hell_ no. Buck wouldn’t allow that. So, he waited despite the agony, despite how helpless it made him feel. 

The fire that raged inside would abate and Buck would return to Eddie’s side, and the need to punish those trapping them here would be replaced by the willingness to do anything just for them to be able to walk away. 

“Hey,” Buck said, trying to coax Eddie awake. But all Eddie did was shiver. 

Buck understood about being cold. There were times when he was a kid where the family would all sleep in the main room by the fireplace practically on top of each other just to stay warm. 

Buck huddled next to Eddie, pulling him close, draping the blanket around their shoulders. Rubbing his hands up and down Eddie’s arms. 

Eddie did this thing where he snuggled closer and Buck would wrap an arm around him tighter, trying to share as much heat with him as possible. It helped sometimes, Eddie rousing long enough to have random conversations in the dark, the light from the lantern casting shadows along the walls.

“Tell me about Pennsylvania.”

Buck didn’t want to talk about home and the loneliness it made him feel. 

“Tell me about your sister,” Eddie asked instead.

* * *

Buck beamed when he spoke about Maddie because she had a goal and went after it.

“When Maddie turned eighteen, she left home and moved to Pittsburg. She went to the city hospital where girls were given room and board and learned nursing in exchange for working there. She even joined the Army Nursing Corp years before the war started.”

“She was older, huh?”

“Yeah. My father was disappointed Mom didn’t have three boys. Maddie got as far away as possible from that.”

“Sounds…lonesome.”

“It was after my brother died. Mom and Dad wanted me to get married and to learn to be a pit supervisor at the mine. I didn’t want either.”

Eddie took Buck’s hand and squeezed his fingers.

* * *

When Buck turned sixteen, he spent it sleeping at his neighbor’s barn. He liked the hay loft, waking up with the sun, breathing in fresh air.

“You can’t hide in here forever you know.”

Buck’s heart did a little flip and he ran over to his sister and gave her a bone-crushing hug. “Maddie. When did you come home?”

“Yesterday. Dad told me you ran off for good and mom said…well, she said you and him had a _misunderstanding.”_

“If you could call it that. They just…they just don’t get it.”

Maddie rested a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “About what? Buck, talk to me.”

“It’s stupid.”

“Buck.”

“I didn’t ask Abby to the harvest dance and somehow Mom and Dad found out and asked me why.”

“Abby, your girlfriend?”

“No, she’s not…I mean, yeah, she _is_ …I mean.” How could he explain things to Maddie if he still had trouble understanding it? “She asked me if we could go steady and I…,” Buck blew out a frustrated breath. “I had a hard time being truthful with her.”

“Buck, it’s not nice to lead a girl on about your feelings. If you don’t want to date her then don’t. But _tell her.”_

And that was what had kept him up all night.

Maddie started rubbing her hand up and down his arm. “Buck you’re my brother and I love you. Is it another girl?”

“No.”

“Buck—"

“I told Abby I didn’t feel the same way about her that she does about me. And I don’t think I ever could.” God had Buck tried, every day, but he couldn’t make his heart feel something that wasn’t there. “She cried. And I tried to make it right; I told her it wasn’t her. That I didn’t want to take _any_ girl to the dance.”

“Oh, Buck.” Maddie pulled him close and held on tight. “Maybe…maybe you just haven’t found the right girl.”

“I don’t think I will, Mads. I told Mom and Dad that I don’t think I’ll ever get married or have kids. They told me not to say such things to them ever again. That no one just _chooses_ to stay a bachelor.” Buck’s chest tightened in grief and despair. “Do…you hate me, too?”

“You’re my brother. I love you no matter what…whatever happens, whatever you decide to do.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Maddie kissed his cheek. “I just a signed a contract to train other nurses how to work in these mobile hospital units they’re designing instead having tons of children. I’m not exactly what mom and dad hoped for either.”

“I guess we’re both disappointments, huh?”

“Only to them, not to each other. And Buck, if you ever find someone who does make you feel happy…don’t deprive yourself of it.”

* * *

Buck rested his finger at the fluttering pulse at Eddie’s neck. “All you’ve been doing is sleeping so there’s no reason for it to be this fast, okay?”

It made Buck angry. Being forced to accept yet another thing in life that wasn’t fair. And now Eddie was sick, and it was harder to wake him up. 

He couldn’t ease Eddie’s pain, or reduce his fever, but Buck could hold him, soothe away the nightmares chasing Eddie in his sleep, pull him against his chest and wrap his arms around him during the most violent trembling. 

“I’ve got you, Eddie, I’ve got you. I’ll get us out of here if you promise to keep fighting. I know you’re battling more than one front. But I’m here, and Christopher is waiting for you, he can’t wait for his father to come home.”

“Chris?”

“Yeah. Do you want to see his picture again?” Buck dug through Eddie’s pockets for his wallet and held up the picture. “See? He needs you Eddie. And I need you. And we both really want you to keep fighting, okay?”

“I’m…so tired, Buck….”

“I know you are, but please, Eds. You can do this…please….”

* * *

“Buck?”

Buck startled to awareness with a groan. His shoulder ached, and he realized that he’d slid against the wall and fell asleep while still holding Eddie. “Yeah, I’m awake, I’m awake.”

He could feel Eddie’s chest heave as he breathed, feel the tension radiating from his body. 

“I think…I need the morphine now.”

Buck removed Eddie’s hat and rubbed his hand through Eddie’s sweaty hair.

Eddie’s head got heavier and heavier, resting against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Hey, hey, nothing to be sorry for. Hold, on, I’ll get you fixed up,” Buck said all while trying to tame the terror gripping his chest.

* * *

“Get out of here, Buck.”

“No.”

“Leave. Now!”

Eddie tried shoving Buck away; almost clipping him in the ear with is elbow. Buck gave him space as not to feel threatened but would not give into his fevered demands. “No can do.”

Eddie’s hair was plastered to his forehead, his ears, and cheeks rosy pink. His voice was a whispered growl of its usual self, but it was still had strength. “I’m ordering you.”

“The only reason why you outrank me is that medics enter the service a couple pay grades higher.”

The flippant response must have confused Eddie in his current state because all his anger petered out. Exhausted, Eddie leaned where he sat against the wall. “I need you…I need you to tell Christopher I love him.”

“You can tell him yourself. Then you can introduce him to me when I come visit.” Eddie looked at Buck through glazed eyes. “I want to visit, for as long as you’ll have me. We’ll figure something out. We can find a way to be happy. _Together._ Because no one there has seen what we’ve seen, been through what’ve been through—and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll tell them to jump into the nearest lake.”

Eddie stared at Buck, his confusion morphing into a tired smile; he reached out to touch Buck’s face, and Buck took his fingers into his own. “We can be like the two old spinsters who live in the town next to me with their cat.”

Eddie’s quiet laugh made something inside Buck’s chest come loose and he kissed Eddie’s too-warm forehead, pulling him closer with no intention of letting go.

* * *

The sound of an engine running perfectly almost made Buck trip over his feet on his way toward the stairs.

After he heard the tank slowly move away, Buck was almost afraid to open the cellar door. When he lifted it a fraction of inch to see if the enemy squad were still camped out, he swallowed a strangled gasp of relief.

* * *

Buck had always wanted to learn more about Eddie’s time in Tunisia, but not like this. _Never like this._ Not in a distraught fever-dream where Eddie poured his soul and anguish into a semi-conscious ramble.

Buck’s heart was overwhelmed with Eddie’s grief at the lives he’d lost and the one he took. But most of all, he was struck by Eddie’s courage and strength, and it was going to take every ounce of that to get them through the next few hours.

Because if they were going to escape, they had to do it now. In the daylight. There was no guarantee that if Buck set out on his own he could return in enough time with help.

Buck took Eddie’s face between his hands, rubbed his thumbs over his heated cheeks. “Do you trust me, Eds?”

“Yes,” Eddie said without hesitancy.

* * *

Buck took a gamble and left his cargo pack in the cellar, but grabbed the medical bag and water, exchanging eighty pounds of gear for Eddie.

Given how weak Eddie had become in the cellar, he was still holding his own outside, leaning heavily on Buck, but still able to put one foot in front of the other. 

Using the sun’s position in the sky, Buck steered them in the direction of the river and hopefully toward the allies. The trek was hard; Buck was done in. It took twice the effort to move his legs than it had the day before. Stress, lack of sleep, and proper food had taken their toll. 

The sound of gun fire in the distance made him pause, huffing for air, listening for which direction it came from. “That’s an M1.”

Another volley followed.

“And that’s…,” Eddie took a heavy breath in his ear. “…a K98.”

German. There was a skirmish nearby.

Buck started going toward the sounds.

* * *

There were more signs they were nearing a growing conflict. The exchange of gun fire was getting heavier, as though more and more people were joining the fight. 

After almost slipping over some melting ice, Buck lowered Eddie to the ground, rolling his shoulder to stretch out the pain. Buck refilled their canteen with snow, drinking some before handing it to Eddie. 

Eddie took the canteen but held it in his lap; he closed his eyes as if trying squeezed in a twelve-hour nap into sixty seconds. Buck squatted beside him, taking in Eddie’s grey color, how he kept one arm wrapped around his side. Buck knew they couldn’t rest long, there was only so much morphine and sheer will could overcome.

Pulling out the map, Buck tried to envision the best approach. If there was a fight over resupplying the invasion of Königsmacker then he was pretty sure the Americans outnumbered the limited German forces roaming around. 

The numbers were in their favor, as was the chance of a friendly fire accident.

Maybe Buck could get them closer to the location of the battle then signal for help, but the idea of leaving Eddie behind even for a few minutes didn’t sit well with him.

“It’s not abandonment, I told you that before.”

Buck stared at Eddie who still had his eyes closed. “First of all, how do you keep doing that? Second of all, no.”

“If we get close enough, stash me by a tree.”

“Eddie.”

Eddie opened his eyes, his voice rough but determined. “I didn’t die in the middle of some bushes…or in a potato cellar…I sure as hell don’t plan on dying a few hundred meters from help.”

“You mean bocages?” Buck asked with a smirk. “And for the record, it was a _root cellar.”_

* * *

Buck’s whole body was ready to give out, but he held firm. It felt like he was in a race between finding help and Eddie’s deteriorating stamina.

“We good?” Buck asked as he took more of Eddie’s weight.

But his only response was Eddie’s labored breathing. 

They were so close; Buck could feel it in his bones as the sounds of the fight intensified

A twig broke under Buck’s boot. Of course, it happened in between a lull in shooting, the snap a sharp echo in the air. 

He froze, he didn’t know why, and when he started moving again, two German soldiers came out of nowhere, shouting at them, one of them aiming a rifle. 

It was the cruelest feeling of déjà vu.

“Please,” Buck begged. “Please just…just let us go.”

He and Eddie must have looked as bad as Buck thought, because both soldiers stared at him then Eddie, who Buck was sure was mostly unconscious at this point.

The two Germans were frightened, Buck could tell, obviously unsure what to do. 

They started arguing with each while Buck struggled to keep Eddie upright.

His rifle was hanging down over his chest by the strap and Buck only had one arm free, the other was wrapped around Eddie’s waist. 

The angry German shouted at his friend, pointing his K98 at Buck’s chest.

His buddy, who hadn’t drawn his weapon, rested a hand on his friend’s arm and slowly made him lower it, speaking to him in a soft, calm tone. 

The angry soldier started lowering his rifle when the echo of automatic fire started up again.

Startled, the soldier raised his weapon again. Buck shoved Eddie to the ground and charged, using his rifle like a battering ram, he slammed it into the soldier’s chest. The action knocked the soldier off balance and Buck used the opportunity, whacking the German over the head with the butt of the rifle. 

Hearing movement off to his side, Buck swung his M1 in the other direction, catching the second solider in the shoulder. But it wasn’t a strong enough blow and Buck and the German struggled for control of the rifle. 

The German shouted at him, kneeing Buck in the thigh, then tried tripping Buck by hooking a leg around his ankle. Buck twisted his rifle free and swung it over the other guy’s face and torso until he stopped moving.

Breathless and dizzy, Buck tried to gain his bearings when he heard a gunshot, followed by a sharp pain that ripped through his thigh. His leg buckled beneath him and Buck dropped like a stone.

It felt like he’d been stabbed, and when he strained his head to check, he saw blood pouring from under his leg and spreading across the snow at an alarming rate. His leg _throbbed_ , a horrible pulsating pain. This was bad. Very bad. He was already light-headed. 

Someone was shouting at him. Out of his peripheral vision, Buck saw the angry German, stumbling toward him, blood dripping down on side of his face, obviously concussed, his K98 wavering his hands. 

This was it…the end….

A shot rang out, and the soldier’s body jerked in response as he fell in a heap a few meters away. 

Stunned, Buck watched as Eddie staggered into view, his pistol loose between his fingers. 

Collapsing, Eddie crawled toward Buck. 

Buck struggled to lift his arm to reach out and touch Eddie’s face; unsure if this moment was the last one either of them would ever share.

Then in the distance, he heard voices— _in English._

 _Oh my God_.

“Over here!” Buck yelled his voice wrecked. “Help! Buckley and Diaz of the 16th,” he screamed. 

“We made it, Eds, we made it,” Buck mumbled, his body trembling. “We made it,” he whispered.

There was no response from Eddie; he lay unmoving, one hand reaching for Buck’s wounded leg.

Buck stretched his arm as far as he could, his fingers grabbing Eddie’s wrist. “We made each other a promise,” he mumbled, his eyelids closing.

Lying there, Buck heard approaching footsteps. He tried talking to them, but no sound came out.

“Holy crap. Medic! Over here!” someone shouted. “Medic!”

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

The first thing Buck realized was that he was warm. Warm and…fuzzy. How much had he’d had to drink?

Part of him wanted to sink into the feeling, roll around and sleep in it. Another part of him, one with an insistent voice, forced him into awareness. He didn’t quite have the energy to open his eyes. But then the last couple of days started flooding back. He gasped.

He felt someone over him, a hand at his wrist. “Eddie?”

“Staff Sergeant Kramer. How are you feeling Corporal?”

“Where’s Eddie?”

A man in his thirties peered down at him. “Sergeant Diaz is beside me. You’ve been shot in the leg; we’re readying you for transport to the field hospital.”

Buck craned his neck, but Kramer was in the way. It was hard to think, his brain kept fuzzing in and out. 

Kramer turned his back to Buck, talking to someone else. “Switch out another unit when this is done.”

“W-what’s going on?”

Kramer removed a bottle that was hanging from a stick next to Buck. “You and the sergeant are receiving plasma before transport.”

It was the first time Buck noticed the needle in his arm attached to a tube. His head felt so damn heavy. 

Buck tried pushing up with his hands, but Kramer gently pushed him back down. “An ambulance should be in the next hour.”

But Buck kept trying to understand where he was, where they’d been taken to. It was getting more difficult to stay awake. “Where…?”

“You and Sergeant Diaz are at the medical evac zone of the Malling River. Now, please lie back down.”

“Sir,” a young private tried to get Kramer’s attention. “His temp’s still at 103.”

“We’re surrounded by snow, Private. Use that to bring it down.”

They were discussing Eddie’s fever. All Buck wanted was for someone to talk to him, tell him was happening, but the warm and fuzzy feeling was too hard to resist and Buck couldn’t fight it anymore.

* * *

**Cherbourg, France  
Field Hospital**  
_Nov 12, 1944_

Buck remembered waking up numerous times. In the back of a truck. Outside on a cot. Inside on a cot.

At some point he was told about getting an operation then woke up to the sound of running feet, realizing he was lying on a bed this time, among rows and rows of other injured men.

He was at a field hospital, a bigger than the one in Morocco. He’d been shot in the right leg that time.

Staring down at his body, Buck noticed the thick, heavy bandage took up his entire left thigh. He wiggled his toes but couldn’t do much else. This looked bad, much worse than previous injuries. 

Despite pain medication, it was hard not to panic. Field hospitals were nothing more than giant tents and concrete floors. He desperately wanted to talk to someone, get an update—on himself, on Eddie, on anything—but there was probably one nurse for every twenty patients and there wasn’t one in sight.

He could see through one of the windows of the tent; it was nighttime and getting darker. Forcing himself onto his elbows he stared at the bed to his right and to his left, but Eddie wasn’t in either of them, and Buck’s heart ached at the not-knowing.

* * *

A nurse checked on him the next morning. It felt like someone had stuck a hot fireplace poker inside his leg. When he mentioned it to the nurse, she gave him more morphine.

“Wait…please. I need to know about my friend…Sergeant Diaz….”

But Buck was swept under a wave of warm numbness.

The next time Buck was awake, he called out until another nurse appeared. “There are other patients trying to rest, Corporal.”

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

“You’re recovering from surgery,” she told him.

“Yeah, I know, but for what?”

“To repair the damage to your leg.”

When she left the guy next to him mumbled. “You won’t get any answers here. Every day they get more wounded. As soon as you’re stable, you’ll be moved again.”

Buck held his face between his hands. He’d never felt so alone while being surrounded by hundreds of people.

* * *

“Evan?”

His ears twitched at hearing his given name, but Buck didn’t react, too far gone in dreams about snow and panzer tanks.

“Buck. Please wake up.”

No, that sounded like…. Buck opened his eyes, his heart racing in joy. “Maddie!”

His sister was dressed in a white military uniform, her hair hidden under her cap. Maddie bent over and gently hugged him. “What did I tell you about ever showing up at one these units, huh? I said I never want to see you here.”

“I’m sorry, Mads.” Buck started wiping at his eyes, in disbelief. “I’ve missed you…I can’t keep up with the time in here.”

“You’ve been here for three days. We’re spread pretty thin. I didn’t know you were here until I overheard the night nurse review your chart with one of the doctors.”

“I have chart?” Buck looked over.

Maddie held up a clipboard with a frown. “Oh, Buck.”

“What? Tell me, please. I’m so tired of people not telling me anything.”

“You were lucky the surgeon who worked on you had a vascular background from his time in Chicago. Your femoral artery was nicked; a tourniquet and plasma kept you alive until you were transported here. Besides tissue and ligament damage, the bullet was lodged in your femur.” She cleared her throat. “You have a hairline fracture.”

Buck felt his chest tighten a bit more with every detail. “I knew it felt this different this time.”

“This time?” Buck didn’t elaborate. Maddie hooked the clipboard on the edge of the bed. “Look. You’re going to be here for another few days before getting transferred to—”

“No, wait. Maddie.” He pulled on her sleeve. “I need to know where my friend is. He was brought in with me. No one will tell me.”

“This is a main field hospital; we get wounded from multiple fronts. There are twenty tents just like this.”

“He was wounded with me. I don’t understand why he’s not here. I need to know…I need to know if he’s….” Buck deflated at the dark thoughts swirling inside his head. 

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay.” Maddie took his hand. “He could be here in another ward.”

“We got separated from our unit. He was shot in the abdomen. We, um, packed the wound. Bleeding stopped after the fourth bandage change. He developed a fever twenty hours later.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing. I just never thought I’d hear my baby brother give me a medical treatment assessment. You _are_ infantry, right?” She asked with a smile. 

“Yeah, but Eddie, he’s a combat medic. I learned a lot from him.”

“Wait. Eddie, as in _the_ Eddie? From your letters?”

“Yeah?” Buck looked at her in suspicion.

Maddie pulled back an errant hair away from her face. “It’s just…you talked about him a lot.”

“Well, other than how crappy every day was, I’d rather talk about my friends.” His thoughts started drifting to his unit, to Eddie in the root cellar, and now somewhere in one of these tents, sick and alone. “You know why I need to find him. Mads, I have to know. I can’t keep lying here. I’m going out of my mind.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll try. But Buck, we get three hundred wounded a day. The longest anyone stays is ten days before getting moved.”

“Please Maddie. You’re like the head nurse right?”

“If you mean the operations supervisor, then yes.” Maddie squeezed his hand. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, please try to rest. You have a long recovery ahead.”

* * *

Buck didn’t expect it to take half the day before Maddie returned. They kept him heavily medicated for the pain, but part of him wondered if it was to keep him from getting bored. 

He spoke to the injured guys to the very left and right of his bed. None of them had seen or heard about Eddie. Buck even had them ask the guy next to them, and had that guy ask the next, but after a few hours Buck still had zero answers.

He practically sat up in bed when he saw Maddie come around the corner. She held her hands out as she approached. “You really have to take it easy. You need to rest and heal.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed by his uninjured leg, she pulled out a piece of paper, her expression soft. “Eddie is in another ward. It’s a semi ICU, and before you get too upset, it’s precautionary. They repaired the internal bleeding and he’s being given an aggressive amount of antibiotics for the infection.” She took Buck’s wrist. “He is improving. But he has a long road ahead.”

Buck sunk into his bed. “He’s alive.”

“Yes and, based on his chart and what you told me, you’re the reason for that.”

“I just followed what Eddie told me to do.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Maddie said, sounding very much the big sister he remembered from home. “It takes skills to keep someone alive with such a serious injury with complications.”

“Yeah, well, we’re all fighters. And Eddie, he’s got a kid at home. Christopher.” Buck swallowed, because he did it: he kept his promise. “Eddie was going to do whatever it took to get back to him.” 

“I saw the kid in the picture he was holding.”

Buck’s heart clenched at the thought. “Mads, I need to see him.”

“It’s not possible.”

_“Please.”_

Maddie stood up. “I can’t move you into that ward and you can’t be moved from here.”

“Maddie....”

“Buck you’re being transferred tomorrow.” She started fiddling with his chart, reverting to hospital supervisor mode. “This ward is for serious, but non-critical patients. I’m sorry. Almost everyone in this tent is being moved. We need the beds.”

He stared at her, slack jawed. “Moved where?”

She hugged the clipboard to her chest. “To a semi-permanent hospital in Cirencester, England.”

“England?” Buck couldn’t even wrap his head around such a move. 

“Buck, your injury is serious.” Maddie wiped the tear going down her face. “I’m sorry. But the doctor and I agree that you’re looking at months before you make a complete recovery.”

 _“Months?_ As in…I mean what about my unit? My guys?”

“I don’t know, Evan. I’m so sorry. You’ll get re-assessed at Cirencester.”

Everything was happening so fast. He felt like he was falling down a large hole. 

He felt Maddie’s arms around his shoulders. She whispered soft, reassuring words, but all Buck could do was dig his fingers into shoulders and hold on to her.

* * *

Buck was transferred onto a gurney for transport, his bed stuck in a line to be moved onto a truck then a ship.

He stared up at the grey clouds above from an approaching storm. He played with his dog tags, his mind numb. 

“Hey.” Maddie appeared beside his gurney, surprising him. She took Buck’s hand. “This is for you.”

Confused, Buck looked at the piece of paper now slipped into his palm. _6820 Toluca Dr, El Paso, TX._

“What…?” he stammered. 

“I got it from Eddie. He said, if you wanted to write….”

Buck rubbed his finger over the address and looked up at her with gratitude and shock. “You talked to him?”

“For a little bit. He was pretty out of it. But he wanted you to have it. I wrote it down for you.”

“Thank you, Maddie. Seriously. Is he…do you know if he’s being transferred to Cirencester, too?”

“He’s probably here for the full ten days.” She nodded at the private who came over to take his gurney, then looked back down at Buck. “Then, I don’t know after that. There are army hospitals in Rouen and Lison, France as well. Not to mention Stockbridge, England.”

In was in that moment that Buck realized he was going to get separated again. “When do you think I’ll get to see you again?”

“I don’t know. I wish I knew.”

Maddie gave him another hug before Buck was wheeled away, the piece of paper gripped tightly between his fingers.

* * *

**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania**  
_Dec 21, 1944_

Buck spent two weeks in England before getting transferred back home. It was a long journey from a hospital ship to a port in New York, then a military train to Pittsburgh.

His parents picked him up; they had blankets and pillows in the back of the truck so he could sit and stretch his legs all the way out. His father even carried his crutches. 

His mom teared-up when she first saw him, kissing him on the cheek. “You’ve lost weight.”

He’d lost so much more than that.

After they arrived, they helped him out of the truck; Buck stared at his childhood home. It felt like he was staring at a faded postcard, a light snow dusting his nose.

“Hurry inside Evan, before you catch cold,” his mother said.

* * *

He slept for almost two days straight after coming home. And before he knew it, almost two weeks had gone by.

Buck’s leg ached in ways like he never thought it could. His lower back hurt and he suffered headaches. One day, his mother gave him a ride into town where he went to the library and checked out several medical books and one on anatomy.

Reading about how muscles and ligament worked together helped him understand about his injury. When he visited the city hospital, he knew what questions to ask the doctor about his recovery.

After the two-hour ride home, his mother told him to wash up for supper. “By the way, a letter came for you.”

Buck froze, his heart thumping inside his ears. He snatched the letter and hobbled to his room.

His hands shook as he carefully opened it.

_Dear Buck,  
I made it home a few weeks ago. After two and half years, I finally got to hug Christopher, I got to kiss and hold my son. And I owe it all to you…._

Sitting back on his bed, Buck read the three-page letter. Twice. He could hear Eddie’s voice, could picture the way his eyes lit up talking about his kid. Getting news from Eddie, knowing that he was happy, safe, made the last three weeks of physical therapy hell worth it.

* * *

_Jan 17, 1945_

Every few days another letter arrived. It was Buck’s reward for after another day of physical therapy, another day of stretching and walking and doing whatever he could to return to normal.

He’d wait until night to write his letter in return. 

_Dear Eddie,  
It feels strange writing a letter at home and not out in the field with the rest of the guys. I never thought I’d miss the smell of gun oil and grass. I don’t miss getting shot at, but I do miss you…._

* * *

_Feb 04, 1945_

Buck had a routine, wake up early, stretch, PT, read, then work out some more. He started checking out more complex books, ones that took forever to decipher, chapters he had to reread several times before some of it sank in.

 _“Textbook of Pathology, Immunology,”_ his father read, picking up each one. “Principles of Nursing. Really, Evan?”

At night he would go into his room and pull out the letters from Eddie and re-read them, folding each one carefully and putting it in the box with the others before pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to pen a new one.

_Dear Eddie,  
You mentioned in your last letter about visiting. I would very much like to do that._

* * *

_Feb 20, 1945_

“You have a visitor, son.”

Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He tried not running inside the house and risk mom yelling at him.

When he walked into the living room it was difficult not to hide his disappointment. “Abby.”

“Hey. I wanted to see you. I mean, I know you’ve been back a while, but your mom told me you were recovering from being injured.” Abby sat down on the sofa and stared at the bulky wrap around his leg. “I can’t imagine what it was like there, how awful it was.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Come on Evan, we invited Abby over for supper.”

“Mom.”

His father walked over to him. “Get yourself together son. Abby’s father is high up in the union. He can help you get a job once you’re fully healed. You two are a good fit.”

* * *

_March 18, 1945_

_Dear Eddie,  
I know you must be busy. You said you were trying to find a better school for Christopher. I still can’t wait to meet him. I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks now. And I never really understood how much your letters meant until I hadn’t gotten one in a while. My heart still beats fast when I walk toward the mailbox…._

* * *

_April 13, 1945_

_Dear Eddie,  
I’m starting to get scared something happened to you or Chris. Are you okay? I got a letter from the Army telling me about the benefits I’m owned for my time served. Something about money for school.  
I could move to El Paso, just say the word and I’m there. I just really need to talk to you. I miss you so much…._

* * *

_May 7, 1945_

Buck sat on the edge of the sofa while listening to the breaking news report from the radio.

His chest was tight, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe as the announcer continued:

_Germany surrendered unconditionally to the Western Allies and the Soviet Union at 2:41 a.m. French time today. The surrender took place at a little red schoolhouse that is the headquarters of Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower._

“Are you okay, son? I thought you would be ecstatic?” His mother asked.

“I am.”

Dragging his feet to his room, Buck closed the door. He collapsed on his bed face down into his pillow, his entire body shaking as he sobbed. He cried for buddies he’d never see again, for the horrors etched into his memories, for bombed-out churches and entire towns wiped away in violence. 

Most of all he sobbed for the feeling of isolation once again. He hadn’t received a letter from Eddie in almost two months and his heart broke into thousands of little pieces.

* * *

_June 1, 1945_

“These came for in the mail for you today.” His mother looked at Buck with such sympathy. She touched his shoulder. “I’m sure there was a good reason.”

It was twenty envelopes. All stamped with: _Mail refused by the addressee at time of delivery._

* * *

_August 10, 1945_

“You really need to get over this, this melancholy. It’s not good for you.”

“Evan, I invited Abby for supper again. Please try to actually speak to her for once.”

“Son, you need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get on with things. I know you’re trying to deal with civilian life. Even Mike’s son sleeps all day. But you’ve been out of the Army for over six months. Time to get back to work.”

“You really need to get out of the house more. This…this silliness has to stop.”

“You got this today. Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

Buck rubbed a hand over his scruffy beard. Staring the envelope, he squinted at the return address in confusion.

_Captain Bobby Nash  
Station 18  
3401 South Central Ave  
Southeast, Los Angeles_

* * *

_Los Angeles  
September 20, 1945_

Buck walked into a small brick building that smelled of fresh paint and rubber. A new fire truck was parked inside the garage a small crew of guys were inspecting hoses. 

Bobby greeted him with an enthusiastic hug. “Welcome to Firehouse 18.”

Buck soaked up the affection before pulling away with the biggest grin. “Thanks, Captain. It’s still, Cap, right?”

“It is.” Bobby’s uniform was formal, a light brown shirt with matching pants and tie. He pointed to his lapel. “This just means I work for the city and not Uncle Sam.”

Buck shoved his hands into his pockets “I still don’t understand what I’m doing here. I mean, I read all the training material you sent.”

“There’s a shortage of fire and rescue workers and the ranks are being filled by military vets, people who know how to work as a team under stress.” Bobby nodded at him. “I know few more qualified than you.”

“But I don’t know anything about firefighting.”

“You didn’t know anything about shooting a rifle or battlefield tactics three years ago.” Bobby looked Buck in the eye. “You know about explosives, been inside burning buildings, know how to rescue a teammate. But, that’s why there’s a training program, to teach you the rest. The science and the tools for combating fire, not to mention advanced first aid. Instead of learning how to take out an enemy you’re be trained on how–”

“To rescue people.”

How to _help_ them.

That was what drew him here, pulled him out of the darkness of his depression. A calling.

Bobby must have sensed that Buck was intrigued. “We use a platoon system, work 24-hour shifts, train constantly on the newest equipment. If anything, over the next few years, how we combat fires will be based on how the Navy did it on ships.”

Buck laughed. “Guess they were good for something.”

“What do you say? Go through the training program?”

“I’m curious. How did you get involved? I mean, I remember you mentioning this to me back in Morocco.” Bobby had often told Buck he had potential for service after the war. It’d gotten him through some of the roughest battles. 

“What did you think I did when I was in my twenties?” Bobby smiled. “Now that I’m retired from the Army, it’s time for a new beginning. With all the new construction in the area, the city’s growing. Not to mention the new tech from the military to help with rescue techniques, now’s the best time to join. To make a real difference.”

Buck didn’t need any more convincing, it was time for a change. “Yeah, I’m in.”

* * *

_June 6, 1946_

Buck returned to the station from the second major railroad fire that month; a fuel car exploded and took out part of the newly-paved road. But that wasn’t what had Buck so jazzed-up. He practically hopped out of the truck and ran toward Bobby’s upstairs office, only to be met by the man himself in the garage.

“You were right, Cap! This new bunker gear worked like a charm!” 

“It’s turnout gear; we’ve got to keep up with the jargon or we won’t be allowed to test it,”  
Bobby said with a smile. “But you liked it?”

Buck removed the heavy coat. “It has three layers instead of two; the outer layer really is fire retardant. And the middle layer didn't get soaked from the hose, so, yeah. I like it a lot.”

“Well, good. Then you can help teach the new guys the proper way to put one when you’re done with your report.”

Buck unbuttoned the front of his coat. “New guys?”

“I finally got Howard Han to join us. He’s going to help me re-write all new safety protocols, but he’ll go out on calls, too.”

Buck froze. “Sergeant Han?”

“Yeah, he’s upstairs somewhere. But the other guy, I think you’ll remember him. Eddie Diaz.” Bobby’s voice grew more excited. “He just graduated first in his class. He’s got a silver star to say the least. He served in your platoon, if I recall, you two were real close at one point.”

Bobby’s words faded into a buzzing sound. Buck wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing. He saw the familiar outline moving around in the locker room, pacing in fact. 

Buck’s feet started moving on their own accord, his heart racing, his mouth dry. 

Eddie looked up at Buck and froze. It was like a dream. Eddie looked good, healthy, defined muscles in his arms and chest, the blue undershirt with the 18 printed over the shoulder stretched a little tight, the dark pants were perfect though.

“Eddie.” Buck didn’t know what to do, his heart twisted up in knots. “You’re here.”

“Captain Nash wrote me. Several times. I’d been looking for a school for Christopher and I have several aunts who live out there. And I remember,” Eddie’s voice clogged up. “I remember you telling me…I should move here. To L.A.”

Buck glanced upstairs and back at Eddie. “Bobby wrote you?”

“Yeah. I...I didn’t know you would be here until an hour ago. I mean, I’d hoped, but then….”

“So, you _do_ know how to write back to someone?” Buck couldn’t contain the biting sarcasm in his voice.

“Of course,” Eddie’s reply was matter of fact. “When I _get_ letters, I always write in return.”

Buck flashed red at the accusation. “Yeah, well I wrote. Like every week. And you wrote back...until you didn’t.”

“I wrote to you every week, too. And then….” Eddie looked away. “I mean, I understood why you’d stop. We started planning our visit and things you, you know… _got real.”_

Buck stared, confused. “I never stopped writing to you, Eddie. Even when I got all my letters returned to me. Unopened,” he growled. “I wrote a few more.”

“What?” Eddie stepped closer, his breathing heavy. “I got all of them. I swear. But then you stopped writing and…. What do you mean, _unopened letters?”_

Buck matched Eddie’s stance, inching closer, enough to smell Eddie’s cologne. “I got a pile of them returned. Mail refused.”

Eddie stared at Buck his expression changing from confused, to hurt, to angry. “My parents.” He clenched his jaw, shaking his head, face horrified.

Buck was taken aback. “Your parents?”

“It’s the only explanation. Why they’d get refused, why…you never got the rest of _mine.”_ Eddie’s voice started choking up. “My mom opened one and read it by accident. The one where we talked about visiting…then ended with the poetry.”

Buck racked his brain about which one, then it dawned on him. “Oh. You mean the one with the poem I wrote about…about missing you and wanting to….”

“Yeah, _that one.”_

“You think your parents took them?” Buck swallowed at the possibility. “Which means…you weren’t rejecting me.”

Eddie’s eyes flashed with hurt. “No. Never.”

Hope filled Buck’s chest. “I sure wasn’t rejecting you either, Eds. I would _never_ reject you.”

Eddie stared at Buck, his expression one of disbelief, then he got the biggest grin before pulling Buck into a bear hug, wrapping his arms around Buck’s shoulders, squeezing him hard enough to make it hard to breathe, but Buck went with it, took it all in. 

Eddie was here, with him, in LA, crushing him, and it made him laugh despite it all.

Pulling back, Buck stared at Eddie, drank in the sight of him, wanting to hug him again, but stopping himself short.

“You still have all your gear on,” Eddie pointed out with a laugh.

“Yeah. Gear I’m supposed to show you how to use.”

“I think I would be good with that.”

“Would you now?”

“And then you could come over after work. For a visit.”

“After work?” Buck asked with a grin. Was this really happening? After all the pain and sense of loss. Now? 

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Eddie said.

* * *

The first week after Eddie’s injury had been a blur, he’s slept through his most of his battle with the infection. His fever had lasted for days, but non-stop fluids and medication had carried him to the other side. 

He remembered one nurse who had taken special interest in his status, constantly checking in on him, talking to him when he was at his lowest, asking about his son when he felt like giving in to pain and illness. 

Right before his transfer to Lison Hospital, the nurse had introduced herself, or re-introduced herself since Eddie didn’t remember her name the first dozen times, apparently.

“I’m Maddie, Buck’s sister. And I hope you feel better.”

“Where’s Buck?”

She’d smiled like this wasn’t the first time he’d asked. “In England recovering. I hope to meet you and your son one day, Eddie.”

Eddie had clung to that hope as well. To the things he remembered in the root cellar, promises made. At first, he wasn’t sure if Buck’s words had been made from desperation, an attempt to keep him alive, the ultimate motivation. 

But when they’d started writing to each other, the memories came flooding back, and with those, a wellspring of hope and happiness. Eddie lived for those letters, for their plans; it helped as he battled to recover from his injury, from the constant fatigue, the lingering pain. 

He stared at the guest bedroom a lot, wondering, thinking.

“Dad?”

Eddie turned around and looked at his son with an honest-to-God smile. “Yeah, Chris?”

“When are we going to meet Buck?”

Picking his boy up, Eddie held him to his good side. “Soon. We’re still trying to work out the details.”

Then the letters stopped.

* * *

Maybe he should have connected the dots or wondered why his mother had pulled him aside one day and told him it was for the best. Why would he want to bring his war buddy to the house and bring all that bad karma with him?

“The war is over, Edmundo. You don’t need to relive such horrible moments. You already don’t sleep very much.”

His father wasn’t much better.

“You have one obligation, and that’s Christopher. The future here and now. You need to let go of the past. Your war buddy has; you should follow his lead.”

He’d believed their words. Why wouldn’t he? It was war. People did what they needed to get through it.

Eddie didn’t begrudge Buck moving on, even if it felt like someone had driven a knife through his chest. Another loss to add to the growing list. 

So, Eddie buried all the disappointment and anger deep inside. Focused on his son. On how to take everything he’d experienced in the war and make something better with it. Anything to rid the nightmares that haunted him, that caused his hands to shake at unexpected sounds or keep him from jumping when surprised. 

He’d volunteered for El Paso’s EMT training program on the weekends to help him get into paramedic school. The program was new, and there were few positions, but he’d hoped the line to the front thanks to his service record.

Until his parents bulked at watching Christopher unless he switched careers to something in an office. 

But then, Captain Bobby Nash of all people wrote to him with an offer that gave him another path—one away from the growing despair.

Something that made him feel like he was making a difference.

* * *

Eddie had chosen to be combat medic to help his fellow soldiers on the battlefield. To aid the sick and wounded. To heal. His thoughts would often drifted to things he could have done better, faster, how many more might have lived to see another sunset.

He still heard cries of _medic!_ in his sleep.

He’d still taken two lives during the course of the war. Maybe more. He tried not to think about their faces, at how young they’d been when they died at his hands. Eddie knew he’d saved others in doing so, but it did little to ease the weight he carried. 

The work was what kept him going. Training at night, exercising during the day, taking care of Christopher in between.

When he graduated number one in his class, it meant something—that maybe he could make up for everything that happened over there, that being a fire fighter could offer him another chance.

* * *

Seeing Buck at the fire house was one of the most terrifying moments of his life. The pain and confusion resurfacing like old wounds. 

Then in a flash, his world turned upside down, and instead of being given a chance at making a difference in life, he’d been given the possibility of enjoying it more fully instead.

* * *

Eddie had dreamed of this day many times, moments when he thought he was dying, other times when he constructed whole scenarios in his head, what words he’d say, how fast his pulse might reach.

After picking up Christopher from his aunt’s, Eddie sang under his breath during the whole drive. 

“You seem really happy,” Chris said when they got home.

Grabbing his son’s satchel from the back seat, Eddie got them settled inside, then bent down and rested his hands on his son’s shoulders. 

“Do you remember when I talked about the war? When I spoke about my best friend?”

Christopher’s eyes got big. “Your army buddy?”

“Yeah, my army buddy.” Eddie grinned saying it out loud. “Well, he’s coming over tonight and you finally get to meet him.”

“Oh, wow.” Christopher grinned ear to ear. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. In fact,” Eddie could see through the window as Buck pulled up in a blue Ford. “Right now.”

Christopher started slicking back some of his hair, to Eddie’s chagrin. Eddie stopped at the mirror by the door and mimicked his son, his hands shaking slightly from adrenaline instead of memories. He hadn’t even changed and was still wearing his fire station shirt.

There was a knock at the door and for a second, Eddie was back in the cellar, then huffing it in the snow, Buck encouraging him to put one foot in front of another. He took a deep breath.

Opening the door, he stood there, staring at Buck, taking in every detail, the birth mark over his eyebrow, the short cropped hair, the way he was grinning at Eddie like a loon, his face that of a kid at Christmas. He was wearing his work shirt as well and Eddie made mental note that Buck needed two sizes larger than he did back in the Army.

“Hey,” Eddie said unable to come up with more words.

“Hey.”

Eddie stepped aside. “Um, come in.”

Eddie lived in a small home, but it was all he and Christopher needed. Speaking of….

Bending so his hands rested on his knees, Eddie smiled at his son, giddy. It felt like he was over the moon. “Christopher, this is my friend, Buck.”

Christopher craned his head to look around Eddie before Eddie moved away. 

Buck started to crouch down but instead, walked toward him, meeting Christopher halfway, Buck’s voice warbling. “Hi, Christopher.”

“Hi, Buck.”

Buck glanced over at Eddie then back down at his son. “I’m so excited to finally meet you.” He wiped at his face.

“Why are you crying?”

Buck continued to brush away tears. “Because I’m happy.”

Christopher giggled. “That’s funny. Why are you crying if you’re not sad?”

“Because meeting you, being here with your dad in his home, it’s one of the most emotional moments I’ve ever experienced.”

Christopher moved closer to Buck, who bent down so Chris could whisper in his ear in a voice that still carried. “My dad has been sad a lot since he got back home from the war. He cries, too.” Chris glanced at Eddie as his own tears ran down his cheek. “I think he’s crying now because you’re here. Does that mean my dad is happy now?”

Buck laughed, smiling. “I hope so, Christopher.”

Unable to contain the emotions overwhelming him, Eddie went over and scooped up his son and held him for dear life. Buck walked over and wrapped his arms around both. “And I hope I can keep making your dad happy. For as long as he lets me.”

* * *

Eddie tucked Christopher in bed after dinner and talks about Europe that were appropriate for his age. 

Pulling he blanket up to his chest, Christopher smiled at Eddie. “I like Buck, Dad. I’m glad he’s here.”

“Me, too.”

After kissing him good night, Eddie closed the door and went into the small living room and pulled two beers from the refrigerator. Handing one to Buck, Eddie sat on the sofa, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. 

Buck sipped on his beer, looking as excited as Eddie felt. “Chris is adorable.”

“He’s the light of my life.” Eddie sat, staring at Buck, wondering if he should pinch himself. “I still can’t believe this is real. That you’re here. _We’re_ here.”

“It is real.” Buck inched closer on the sofa, looking at Eddie like he was trying to memorize every feature, every detail. “But there is one way to test the theory.”

Eddie’s pulse jumped. “Oh, is there?”

“Yeah. I can think of a few ways.”

Buck caressed the side of Eddie's face, slow and sweet, like he was mapping out every inch under his fingers. Eddie's breath caught in his throat, caught in the moment, taking in the feel of Buck’s touch on his skin.

Eddie had enough time to register what was happening before their mouth met, Buck's hands framing his face and pulling him into a kiss. It took a second before Eddie responded, and when his brain caught up with the rest of him, Eddie gave in to everything, months of pent up want, desire, need, kissing Buck like he's always dreamed of doing.

Buck opened his mouth, muttering "finally" against Eddie's lips and the kiss turned deep and wet in a second. It was so good, Eddie’s heart pounding in his ears, his adrenaline pumping. 

When Buck let go of him, they were both panting, and Eddie was pretty sure that he looked like he'd just been struck by lightning. Buck certainly did. 

"I’ve been imagining this for almost two years," Buck breathed.

“Me, too,” Eddie said before kissing him again. It was deep and intense from the first second, something Eddie had been longing to do forever. The kiss turned even deeper, and Eddie couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through his body, Buck's fingers slid over to grip Eddie's hands, their fingers tangling together, holding on tightly as they continued kissing.

Eddie reluctantly released Buck’s lips to give them both the chance to catch their breath. He moved his head back a few inches to look into Buck's eyes. He was grinning, they both were.

"Please tell me we can do this every day," Eddie said, still feeling a bit dazed.

"I don’t see why not." Buck’s smile was brilliant.

"So," Eddie hesitated. "How about now?"

"All you have to do is ask,” he murmured into Eddie's mouth, kissing him deeply again.

Eddie took another breath, his brain still working overtime. “What do we do…after….”

“After I visit?” Buck grinned.

“Yeah?” Eddie couldn’t help asking what was swirling inside his head. “Tomorrow. A week from today. A month?”

“This.”

“Buck. I’m serious. I’m not trying to sabotage this…I….”

Buck took both of Eddie’s hands into his. “I told you once that you and I, we’re different, but we’re not the only ones. I told you we’d find a way and we will.”

“Like the two spinsters with their cat?”

Buck’s face lit up at the question. “You remember that?”

Eddie ran a hand through his hair. “I remember thinking this day would never happen.”

“But it did. Because it was meant to be. I mean, what are the odds? A combat medic and a G.I. meet on the eve of the world’s greatest battle….”

Eddie laughed, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over Buck’s hands. “Sounds like a dime store novel.”

“One I would buy.”

Of course, he would. Eddie grinned again. “But we lived it. We survived.”

“Yeah, we did. And we get our happy ending.”

It was what they deserved, what they earned. Eddie took Buck’s hand still clasped in his, pressing it to his lips. “There’s a house two doors down. It’s for sale. Why waste another minute?”

Buck gazed at Eddie in surprise, the smile he’d been sporting since he walked into the door, never fading. “Why indeed.”

* * *

_December 23, 1947_

Eddie finished putting the punch bowl onto the table while Buck counted the number of glasses. 

Stepping back, Eddie looked over the feast on the other, larger table, and the amount of booze that Han had finished setting out.

Bobby brought over another tray of appetizers and Eddie shook his head. “I can’t thank you enough for letting us host the party here, Cap. There just wasn’t any room at either mine or Buck’s.”

“Are you kidding me? They might be members of your platoon, but I was still their Captain. I didn’t sweat with them in the trenches, but I tried to look after each one of you.” Bobby handed Eddie a mini sandwich. “What a better way to say thanks then to feed them?”

Eddie studied Bobby’s freshly pressed uniform. “Are you still trying to recruit Kinard?”

“Tommy? He’s training to be a smoke jumper. But I’m eyeing a few others.”

Buck stood beside Eddie and clapped his hands together. “Should we hide the rum?”

Eddie considered it. “I don’t know, I’m sure Nutz smuggled something over just for this occasion.”

“What was his real name, anyway?” Han asked, bunching on cracker.

“I actually don’t know.” Eddie looked at Buck with a raised eyebrow.

“Haven’t a clue. But he did try to sell me some insurance the last time we talked over the phone.”

That wasn’t surprising in the least. 

“Daddy, Daddy, tell Buck she’s here!” Christopher said, excited while he made his way over. 

Buck practically ran the length of the garage. Eddie stood back while brother and sister reunited for the first time since the war.

Maddie hugged her brother, the two of them holding on to each other, until Buck pulled back. “It’s great to see you again, sis.”

“Same here.” 

With an arm around her brother’s waist, Maddie walked inside, marveling at the spread, then coming to stand next to Eddie. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Thanks.” Eddie hugged her. “And thanks for being there when you could.”

“Of course. I knew how special Buck was to you.” Maddie took his hand. “I’m very glad to have some time to spend with the both of you over the holidays.”

Buck beamed beside her. 

There was a loud crashing sound outside. Maddie pointed at the garage doors with a smirk. “I think your other Army buddies are here. I overheard a few of them discussing who would take the fire truck out for a spin first.”

Buck snickered. “Sounds like them.” 

“And the answer is no one,” Bobby said, walking toward the sounds of mischief. 

Han gave Buck and Eddie a drink. “You guys ready for these shenanigans?”

Eddie took the glass, looking from his fire family to the one he’d made overseas. Standing next to Buck, feeling the warmth from his shoulders, watching Maddie talk excitedly with Christopher as the station filled with laughter.

Eddie and Buck clinked his glasses together, the two of them sharing a contented expression, standing side-by-side. “We’re more than ready.”

* * *

Fini

A/N: I may have had a cathartic reaction when I was finally done writing this epic. :) This wasn’t what I imagined my first story in this fandom would look like, but I’m glad a friend suggested the idea. I loved the journey and exploring these characters in this era, despite how heart-breaking it could be at times. 

I’m still getting my feet wet with this fandom, so I hope to have a few things down the road. 

Thank you for taking this ride with me. \o/ \o/ Comments are always appreciated.

Come hang with me here: https://thekristen999.tumblr.com/

Extra tidbit from Wiki:

The physicians, dentists, nurses, and enlisted personnel known as the medics cared for some 14 million patients during World War II. Medics served diligently on the battlefield, at sea, and in the air, demonstrated their compassion on a daily basis for millions of servicemen. The reason for countless medical successes was the speed and skill with which the medics initially treated the wounded.

To preserve their non-combatant status under the Geneva Convention, the War Department did not give any medics combat pay (ten dollars extra a month) or the right to wear the combat Infantryman Badge. In some divisions riflemen collected money from their own pay to give their medics the combat bonus. As for their right to wear the badge, five enlisted medics in the European Theater of Operations (ETO) were awarded the Medal of Honor, and hundreds won Silver or Bronze Stars.

Medical personnel from most western nations carry weapons for protection of themselves and their patients but remain designated non combatants, wearing the red cross, crescent or crystal. A practice observed through WWII.

However, the enemies faced by professional armies in more recent conflicts are often insurgents who either do not recognize the Geneva Convention or choose not to adhere to it, and thus readily engage all personnel, irrespective of non-combatant status. It is common to find combat medics who are no longer wearing the red or white cross. Combat Medics in the United States Army and United States Navy Hospital Corpsmen are now virtually indistinguishable from regular combat troops, except for the extra medical equipment they carry.


End file.
